


serendipitous.

by hypegirl



Category: NCT (Band), NCT Dream, WAYV
Genre: ??? - Freeform, ????????, Alternate Universe - America, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Angst, Character Development, ChenJi, Coming of Age, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff, Gay., General Chaos, Humor, Ice Cream, Jaeno, LMAO, M/M, McDonald's, Music, Philosophy, Skateboarding, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Sneaking Out, Strangers to Lovers, Summer, Symbolism, Texting, a lot of symbolism, beach, bruh that's a tag, chensung - Freeform, jeno is lonely and sad and dramatic, mythical costco that never closes, nomin, please just click on this i worked so hard, r/im14andthisissodeep, renyang (if you squint really really hard), this is Such A Joke, well not really its just that awkward summer between the two, why is tagging for this so hard, why is that a premade tag im gone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:47:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25121884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypegirl/pseuds/hypegirl
Summary: Jeno would like to think he’s a realist.But, like most other things, realism gets boring after a while.
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin
Comments: 19
Kudos: 55





	serendipitous.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [im_soft_ok](https://archiveofourown.org/users/im_soft_ok/gifts), [iuwui](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iuwui/gifts).



> hello! im back after almost two months. i said i'd take a break from writing but one late night conversation with im_soft_ok landed me here. 
> 
> it took so much work jesus christ. thank you so much to Wacko_Azimuth, the worst best beta reader on the planet. screw med school man major in writing or some. 
> 
> i'll try and keep this short.
> 
> just so y'all know italics signify jeno's thoughts/what he's writing, based on the context.
> 
> here's the [official playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4tvzOXMDa7JU5xtIYBoIN6?si=wTqtAokaQ6OsjzPPSWYnDQ)\-- it's slightly more fun than the fic itself (but it's over 10 hours so i'd recommend shuffling through).
> 
> and as for the specific songs mentioned in the fic, we have jaemin's picks--[superposition by young the giant](https://youtu.be/YkDKogMOz10) and [like or like like by miniature tigers](https://youtu.be/BKbe5oDuhoo). 
> 
> jeno's suggested track (fuck you, spotify!) is [guts by augustine](https://youtu.be/NiZ5nG097XA).
> 
> oh and //TW//: references to self harm, suicidal thoughts. 
> 
> i challenged myself to write something without anything dark and failed. 
> 
> lastly!! the town in this fic is fictional. the boardwalk portion is based very (VERY) loosely off of ocean city, md. 
> 
> k that's all enjoy!
> 
> edit 8/15/20- formatted, fucking finally. tell me if you find any errors!

It’s 7:04 AM on a Wednesday. 

A boy sits alone in a shop near the middle of an empty boardwalk, feet propped up on the glass display case before him.

He’s shielded from the heat of the early July sun by a roof that just barely brushes the top of his head when he stands. 

He stays in his folding chair, shifting slightly and flipping a page of the book he’s holding.

Upon further inspection, the book does not appear to be a book at all. He’s holding a leather-bound journal and nibbling at the back of a pen. 

He brings the pen back to a page already populated by scribbled notes and tiny drawings. 

A small speaker sitting on the ground beside him switches to a familiar tune that all but blends in to the sound of the tide crashing softly onto the beach. The volume is at the lowest possible setting, so that the music is audible to only him. 

The boy moves his pen across the page in a slow, deliberate line. Then another. 

His hand shakes slightly as a sudden breeze travels in from the ocean.

The boy drops the book into his lap, letting his eyes wander off to the horizon. 

A seagull calls from somewhere he can’t see and he exhales, looking down to the display case. 

Tubs of ice cream are organized neatly within it, a variety of artificial colors reflecting through the pristine glass. 

He crosses his legs, resting them atop the case again. 

The book sits forgotten in his lap for a few seconds before he seems to remember its presence. He picks it up again, crossing out what he’d started to write before. 

Using the back of his pen to flip to a blank page, the boy looks back to the beach.

In clear lettering, he titles the new page with two words and a flourish of his pen.

He hears the distant sound of footsteps against wood. 

He puts a period next to the pair of words and casts the book off to the side.

The boy kicks his legs down from atop the display, preparing his customer service smile. Wonderful things have been said about that smile. 

He, of course, doesn’t think much of it. After all, he has no idea how to respond to such compliments except with another hesitant smile.

The speaker automatically turns itself off with the sound of a single drum beat. 

The boy waits patiently, accustomed to sitting alone and watching people pass for hours on end. He supposes he has a lot to keep his mind occupied even now. 

Thoughts can survive in his brain for extended periods of time, a fact that serves as both a blessing and curse depending on the situation. 

He knows that, left to himself, he would start thinking about something he’d already addressed, like college. He doesn’t want that. 

Summer has just started, after all. Such concerns are to be saved for later. 

Instead, he dedicates himself to passively considering what he’d begun to write in his journal. 

More people gather on the boardwalk, walking in opposite directions, talking, laughing. 

The boy continues sitting in silence, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards in a preoccupied half smile. 

He just watches, the way he always does. 

\-- ↻ --

It’s 7:24 AM on a Wednesday, and Jeno Lee is thinking about lemon sorbet. 

It sits in the tub farthest to the right, and he stares blankly at it. 

Perhaps it’s too early in the day for ice cream. 

No one has come up to the shop yet, but he supposes that’s alright. 

He leans back in his folding chair until it’s balanced on its back two legs and he has to flail to right himself. 

Someone should have told his parents this wasn’t a good idea. To leave 14 year old Jeno in charge of an ice cream shop, that is. 

Jeno’s eyes drift to a group of teenagers laughing loudly as they make their way to the other side of the boardwalk, and he has to pause to remind himself that he’s no longer 14 years old and scared for high school. 

He’s now 18, and scared for whatever’s to come. University.

Jeno smiles to himself. How ironic it is that he must always be afraid of something or another. 

He looks back to the lemon sorbet. It sits untouched. 

In the four summers that Jeno’s worked there, not a single person has bought the lemon sorbet. It must be lonely, he thinks. 

Naturally, it takes longer than Jeno’s proud of to realize that sorbet does not, in fact, have feelings. 

But there are only a few things that he could be thinking about right now. 

One being the end of summer, which feels far away and close at the same time. 

Another being the people all walking the same direction on the boardwalk before him, a train of thought which would undoubtedly lead him back to his deep hours. And everyone knows, mornings are not a good time for deep hours. 

The last potential contemplation remains in the sad tub of citrus flavored ice. 

It’s only crossing Jeno’s mind now, which is strange. 

The little squround has been present for as long as he can remember, immaculate. 

It must feel so unwanted. 

Oh, right. No feelings. 

At this point, Jeno resorts to holding a staring contest with the container. Another breeze comes in from the ocean, and his eyes begin to burn. 

_You and me, we’re the same._

_..._

_Dramatic bitchass._

He finally blinks. 

A little girl bounds up to the display case, staring into it. She’s dragged her mother over as well. Jeno, like an idiot, stares at the child for a few seconds before remembering where he is. 

The woman appears to be chiding her daughter in a language he doesn’t understand. 

The girl does not budge, but continues staring into the case. 

Jeno smiles awkwardly up at the mother, who pauses her scolding to return it with an equally awkward laugh. 

“Sorry.” She says, slightly accented. 

He just shakes his head and keeps smiling. 

This is an everyday occurrence. Another reason why Jeno’s parents should have been told how bad an idea this was. 

The boy himself has never been much of a talker, preferring to record thoughts in the worn journal he received as a gift when he turned 17. 

He sometimes forgets the sound of his own voice, but that’s not the real problem. 

Jeno has absolutely no idea how to interact with people. 

It’s not something that’s his fault, either. When you don’t talk for a while, you kind of forget how to. 

More often than not, he ends up trying to communicate through facial expression, but of course, that’s not nearly as effective as real words. 

It’s quite a non-ideal situation to have ended up in-- one that technically is of Jeno’s own doing. He’s not mute, and therefore his lack of inclination towards people is technically something within is control. 

Jeno probably seems standoffish, which is not what is intended. He smiles more than necessary in a desperate attempt to counter that.

His eyes supposedly turn into little crescents, which, for some reason, is endearing. He thinks it’s a little peculiar that his most positive quality happens to be something he can’t control. 

The little girl ends up wanting strawberry ice cream, and her mother reluctantly agrees. 

When they leave, Jeno looks back to the tub in the corner. 

If it could, Jeno imagines it would look back. 

\-- ↻ --

Another while passes, as usual, and the boardwalk grows less and less crowded. 

Jeno watches the crowd of people, still continuing in the same direction, and wonders if they know what they’re walking towards. 

The boardwalk ends. 

It appears that whoever was building it gave up about two-thirds of the way across the beach. The planks transition smoothly into a set of steps that lead directly into the sand below. 

They aren’t particularly high up, since the tide barely ever comes in too far. The steps are too close together. 

He looks out to his right, where the end of the beach is too far away and out of view. However, Jeno knows what he’d see. A short pier going outwards, right near the spot at which the sand just sinks below the surface of the water, replaced by another, shorter boardwalk. 

That one leads to a large expanse of dry grass and sand. 

There’s sometimes a carnival there, at the end of July. Only the ferris wheel remains in place year-round. On days when the sky is gray and cloudy, it looms in the distance, only its outline visible. 

Today, the sky is a saturated blue, and if Jeno squints, he can make out the brightly colored compartments hanging from the wheel. 

A boy skateboards by, and the sound of the board’s plastic wheels against the uneven wood is enough to startle Jeno out of his thoughts. 

His eyes follow the boy, whose hair is dyed a soft pink. 

He stands out in the crowd, and Jeno can see many a teenage girl stop in their conversation as he speeds by. 

The boy has headphones on, oblivious to all the attention he’s getting. 

Jeno just rolls his eyes (without a trace of spite) and directs his attention to the ocean, which can finally be seen through the crowd in front of him. 

It glimmers in the sunlight, a familiar sight. Still, he focuses on the way the small waves catch the light as they crash into the sand.

It’s blinding after some time, and Jeno has to look away. 

Jeno’s started to think he doesn’t belong here. 

After all, say you live by a beach and you’re automatically associated with the loud types that Jeno’s sure you more commonly find on the west coast. 

You’re not supposed to be like Jeno, who never speaks, and burns easily. 

He’s never left, and therefore has absolutely no idea what life must be like for other people. 

Maybe it’s more peaceful that way. But Jeno supposes it depends on the person.

\-- ↻ --

More time passes, a few customers here and there, but nothing Jeno can’t handle. 

It’s around 2:00 PM. 

Five more hours. 

No one really asked Jeno to stick around for 12 hours straight, but he never has anything to do, so he decided he might as well. 

He never goes anywhere, and he doesn’t have friends to spend time with. That’s not to say he doesn’t know people, though. Jeno’s acquainted with almost everyone in the shops by the beach, but there’s no one he feels comfortable enough with. 

He doesn’t feel like he’s missing out on much. From what he understands, all your experiences are the same, but you just have more people with you. 

For someone who doesn’t really talk, Jeno’s never seen the appeal. 

The boardwalk’s starting to get crowded again, but not with kids at this point. 

Jeno has a kind of mental schedule that almost always proves accurate. 

2:00-3:00 PM, around, is when couples start popping up everywhere, and Jeno hates it. 

Actually, “hate” is quite a strong word. He tends to be uncomfortable with PDA, and often feels as though he’s intruding. 

He has this weird kind of emotional response to seeing people in love around him. 

Not that he’s cynical. 

Jeno feels happy for others, happy when they have their lives under control and stuff. 

_And stuff._

Maybe cynical isn’t that far off. 

Love, to Jeno, has always seemed to be the made-up stuff of fairytales. Like magic. Or dragons. 

Imagine you’re going about your day and then there’s a whole group of dragons in front of you. 

That’s pretty much how Jeno feels. 

Maybe it’s because it has always seemed so far away for him, specifically. 

That’s not important, though. He’s 18. He has time. 

Yeah. Time. 

Time is passing far too quickly. 

Before he knows it, it’s 6:45. 

It’s probably wise for Jeno to duck out before people start coming back at 8-ish. 

He casts another, final glance at the forgotten tub of ice in the corner before leaving.

Another day has passed, but that’s okay. 

More will come. 

\-- ↻ --

_I wonder if there’s a single person out there who likes lemon sorbet._

And... We’re back.

It’s almost 4 AM. 

Jeno can’t sleep. Well, he usually doesn’t sleep. 

He has earpods in, and they’re blasting something that he doesn’t recognize at too high a volume to be healthy. 

The song itself is slow, with a lo-fi kind of beat. Jeno tends to like that kind of thing. 

The page that he’d opened to at some point earlier that day (no, the previous day, he reminds himself, glancing at the digital alarm clock on his nightstand) is now covered in words, some of which he has to squint to read. 

It takes him a while to remember what he happened to have been thinking about at a certain time, too occupied with whatever’s currently swirling around in his mind. 

Jeno supposes the amount of thinking he does could be bad for him. 

He remembers back in freshman year, when he wasn’t as quiet. A friend whose name he has to strain to remember had made a certain remark that stayed with him for so many years. 

_“If you’re thinking all the time, don’t you realize that at some point all that’ll be left to think about is thoughts?”_

Jeno had wondered at the time how it was possible to think about thoughts. 

Now, he realizes that’s exactly what he’s doing. 

_Ah, shit._

Has he really exhausted all other topics? What’s to become of him?

Jeno’s sure that he’ll grow bored of thinking about thoughts soon enough. Then what? 

He trusts the universe more than this. It can’t just let him sit there and slowly die with no purpose. 

He then looks up to the heavens (rather, the fan in the middle of his ceiling), and silently asks:

_What happens now?_

Jeno’s never been particularly religious, but he’d like to believe there’s someone-- _something_ up there that’s looking down on him and everyone else. 

Something that knows what’s to come before it can even cross Jeno’s mind. 

When Jeno finally falls asleep, the final notes of an unfamiliar song still playing in his ears, it’s with the anticipation of something new. 

The sneaking suspicion that soon, things will change. 

\-- ↻ --

Thursday starts the way it always does. 

It has a different sort of vibe than all of the other days. 

Feel free to fight Jeno on this one, but if Thursday was a color, he thinks it would probably be a dark red. 

Not quite the color of blood, closer to that of wine. 

Actually, please don’t fight Jeno. He’d like to think he’s a pacifist. 

They exist, you know. Even on the coast of the Atlantic Ocean.

Jeno leaves the house a little after 6:00, before either of his parents have woken up for work. He lives a short distance from the beach, and ends up walking the whole way there without his gaze moving from the sky. 

He usually gets out in time to catch the last of the sunrise, pinks and oranges streaked throughout. 

It’s always reminded Jeno of paint, for some reason. 

Paint always reminds Jeno of something else.

And that reminds him of something, and, oh, here we go. The cycle repeats itself yet again. Trip down memory lane, anyone? 

When Jeno was in middle school, he’d known a kid who’d liked to paint.

He looks further off in the distance, perhaps to aid his memory. 

No one knew the kid’s name, but they all knew of him. He’d paint the underside of his desk in every class, and never got caught. 

Whenever seats were changed, everyone knew to stealthily check their own desks.

It was never mentioned after that. 

In the eighth grade, Jeno’s place in Language Arts was one of them. 

Whenever their teacher left the room, everyone would gather around his desk for a few minutes and just stare at it.

The boy had painted the skyline of a city at night, except for the fact that the moon was larger and more yellow than it was in life. 

Looking closer, Jeno had realized that it had been half a lemon, suspended in the sky among the stars.

The city was illuminated by a fruit, and no one had questioned it. 

Jeno now realizes how _weird_ that is. 

They were probably just too enamoured by its beauty to let rationality and logical thought do their thing. 

Wow, that was... Surprisingly deep. 

Thinking back to the painting, Jeno remembers that the kid’s art had disappeared by the time they had reached sophomore year. 

Most people thought he’d gotten caught. The others didn’t really care. 

Jeno wonders what happened to that kid. It would probably be helpful if he knew his name, or at least what he looked like. 

Thoughts of him subside as Jeno reaches the end of the boardwalk and can finally see a larger expanse of sky. 

The remnants of the sunrise are melting away, replaced by a tamer blue. 

He enters the shop from the back and the day starts. 

\-- ↻ --

The only people out at this time (other than Jeno, of course) are the surfers. 

It must depend on the day, he reasons, as they only appear to show up every now and then. 

Jeno watches them, sometimes, observing the way they wipe out under waves only to come back up to the surface laughing. 

They just seem so... Calm. Unbothered. 

It’s all very interesting to him, how people who could be considered “normal” act. He props his legs back up on the display case. 

_What even is normal, anyways?_

A girl laughs in the distance, climbing back onto her board with her hair wet.

_Am I normal?_

_Ok. Well._

Most of Jeno’s thoughts take the form of questions. 

Not questions that can be answered with science or math. 

They can’t be answered. 

The vast majority of them, anyways.

Jeno’s never been interested in figuring out how things work, or why life is possible, or anything like that-- typically “big” questions. He’s more fascinated by humans. The way they think, the way they behave. 

More than anything, Jeno wants to understand.

He wants to understand why he can go weeks without speaking, while others can barely go a few minutes. He wants to understand what differentiates people, and what makes them similar. 

Maybe, someday, he will. 

But that’s all very far away. 

\-- ↻ --

Almost 9:00 AM on a Thursday. 

Jeno can’t see the ocean through the crowd. 

He doesn’t understand why people flock to the boardwalk. 

It’s just a bunch of wood, with some sand, and the same ocean that takes up 70-something percent of their entire planet. 

The breeze is coming in stronger than usual, today. It’s chilly, but not cold. 

This town doesn’t get cold. Not in July, anyways.

Nevertheless, the fact stands that today is far from an ice cream kind of day. Jeno serves more as decoration than anything. 

He blinks, cringing slightly at the thought. 

_As far as I know, decoration is supposed to be attractive._

Jeno’s own perspective on himself in terms of looks is, in short, nothing to be casually discussed.

Still, he sits at his post in the center of the tiny shop, stationary. 

Jeno doesn’t really serve much of a purpose that day. 

_I mean, do I ever?_

It’s a weird outlook, Jeno knows. 

But, overall, that’s not as morbid a thought as one might think.

Jeno doodles a city, with a lemon hanging over it. 

Truthfully, for every person who changes the world, there are at least a thousand who don’t. 

And Jeno knows. He’s known since day one that he would never change the world. He’d long since decided that he was okay with it.

It’s a strange turn for his train of thought to have taken, but he’s grown accustomed to such non-sequiturs. 

The boardwalk doesn’t clear for hours, despite the chill in the air. 

\-- ↻ --

Jeno has reverted back to thinking about thoughts. 

He wonders why he has so many of them, why they take the forms that they do. 

That is, of course, before he catches himself. Now, he feels more hopeless than before. 

Jeno’s sure there are other things in the world that he’s yet to think about. 

There have to be.

The beach is visible at this point, as there seem to be less people than before. 

The breeze has calmed until it’s almost nonexistent. Now, it’s a stereotypical summer day. 

Blue skies, shining sun, high temperatures.

_Is this really it for me?_

_Please, universe, just do something._

_Anything._

_I don’t think I can go on like this._

“Hello!”

The voice startles Jeno into chucking the notebook behind him towards the back of the shop and bolting upright. 

He hasn’t had a customer yet today. 

The boy standing in front of him has an amused smile on his face, one that makes Jeno want to shrink down in his chair and never come back up. 

He realizes belatedly that he’s still holding the pen. In a lapse of judgement, he ends up throwing the pen off somewhere behind him. It crashes into something, surprisingly loud, and Jeno is sure his own smile looks more than a little pained. 

He offers an uncomfortable half-wave. 

If anything, the boy’s grin only widens. 

It takes up probably more than half of his face, and Jeno can’t help but think _damn, that must hurt_.

Unsure of where to go from here, Jeno looks blankly down at the display case of ice cream, hoping the boy will follow his gaze.

No such luck. 

The boy waits for him to glance up again, grin not wavering for even a second. It’s almost as blinding as his (definitely dyed) white-blonde hair. 

Jeno tilts his head. 

“Do you talk?” The boy asks, not rudely in the least. 

He seems genuinely curious, curious about _Jeno_ \-- And the thought is so unsettling that Jeno just sits there staring at the boy like a fool. 

He appears to get the message, and gives Jeno a look of wonder. 

Jeno probably reddens. Sure feels like he does. 

The boy shakes his head, holds a hand up in a gesture that seems to say “ok”. 

He then points in the corner of the case, directly at the little container of lemon sorbet. 

Jeno doesn’t move. 

He clears his throat, and opens his mouth as if to say something. 

No sound will come out, he knows.

The boy continues pointing at the tub, and tilts his head as if to mimic Jeno. 

It only takes a few seconds for Jeno to snap out of it and hand him a cup of the stuff, accepting his payment with a uniform nod and smile.

He can’t help but watch the boy leave, bouncing with every step, almost _skipping_ \--

_He has no idea what he just did._

_Is this your idea of a practical joke, universe?_

The boy quickly disappears from Jeno’s line of sight, but as he looks back to the container of sorbet, its surface now marked with a single scrape down the center, Jeno sees him again. 

A too-wide smile, hair a bleached blonde.

That look in his eyes. 

_Who are you?_

\-- ↻ --

It’s actually closer to 5 AM, for a change. 

Jeno usually ends up passing out at 4:30, only to wake 45 minutes later to get ready.

It’s a wonder he’s survived for years this way. He’d like to think the days of sleeping 13 hours straight as a child more than compensate for his current sleep schedule. Or lack thereof.

Nevertheless, Jeno’s unable to put a finger on the reason for his lack of exhaustion tonight. 

He stares up at his ceiling in the dark, listening to the whirring noise from the fan above him. His notebook sits on the table next to him, a pen tucked into the space between the leather binding and the backs of the pages. 

Jeno picks it up, and just stares at it for a second. There’s a dark stamped image of the sun on it, one that’s fading away in places to match the neutral brown of the cover. 

Its rays curve in a way that makes it look more like a large flower. 

He absentmindedly runs a hand over it, feeling where it’s raised, and where the stamped image has pressed it down. 

The wind howls, causing the window panes to rattle against one another. 

Jeno pushes a curtain back far enough to make out the ocean in the distance, visible over the tops of nearby buildings, and a navy sky dotted with stars. Nothing he hasn’t seen before. 

Pushing the curtain back slightly farther, Jeno can make out the moon, far away. 

A small crescent, the same faded cream color as--

No. No more sorbet. 

_It doesn’t feel alright anymore to think your usual screwed up thoughts about it, to relate yourself to that.._

Jeno then realizes how fucked up it is to relate yourself to any food in general. Or, really, any inanimate object at all. 

Imagine relating yourself to, like, a lamp. Maybe a potted plant. 

_This is insanity._

He furrows his brow at the slim crescent outside of his window. 

It’s not with any form of aggravation that Jeno regards himself, his social standing, his being in general. 

Jeno would like to think he’s a realist. 

But, like most other things, realism gets boring after a while.

He wonders what it’s like to turn heads everywhere he goes. 

Maybe it’s enjoyable to be met usually with expressions of wonder, or stealthily concealed admiration.

Jeno’s getting ahead of himself. 

Not only does he not deserve to be regarded in such a way, thinking about it just feels _wrong_.

That kind of love is something too unfamiliar.

The closest that Jeno will get to true fascination, perhaps even infatuation, was--

No. 

Absolutely not. 

Jeno has no right to think of the boy in that way. 

Associating a complete stranger with a feeling as intimate as _love_ is not correct in the least, and the thought causes Jeno more than a little discomfort. 

He’s not even missing out on anything. 

There’s no need to look in the most random of places for things that are most certainly not there. 

Still, he can’t help but wonder caused that look to set itself in the boy’s eye. He seemed so completely awed, with that damn smile that contained more happiness in it than all that Jeno had felt in years. Perhaps in his whole life. 

Thinking about it feels strange.

Just as quickly, he wants to hit himself. 

_That smile wasn’t for you._

_People, in general, smile to express contentment/satisfaction/positive feelings other than the ones that you’re thinking of._

After all, Jeno himself smiles more than typically necessary. 

He sighs. Such are the joys of customer service. 

The digital clock now reads 5:19, and Jeno knows he should get out of bed. 

Thoughts of love and platinum blonde hair dye don’t leave him until he’s situated in the tiny shop, gazing out at the water. 

\-- ↻ --

The second time Jeno sees him is actually the same day. 

He happens to be walking down the boardwalk (for some reason, in the opposite direction of everyone else, towards the start of the beach). 

Of course, he would have blended right in if his hair wasn’t such an unnatural color. Jeno leans forward slightly, and notices that a few strands near the boy’s face are now dyed a vibrant blue. 

It shouldn’t look good. 

Multiple alarms sound in Jeno’s mind and he reddens, acknowledging how stalkerish he must seem. 

The day passes, and Jeno can’t be blamed every time his eyes wander, subconsciously searching for another trace of azure. 

Time starts to go by slightly faster.

\-- ↻ --

“Slightly” is a bit of an understatement. 

Jeno has no idea what he did, but it now seems as though another two hours pass every time he blinks. 

_Go back, please, I think I might have missed something._

He keeps his eyes open for as long as possible, not stopping even when he feels the sting of tears. 

_You’re being ridiculous. Everything is the same as it always was._

Jeno blinks. His watch reads 4:01 PM. 

_Oh, god._

He can’t remember when he last checked the time, and ends up squinting at the slowly ticking hands for who knows how long. 

“Hello, again!”

Time happens to go back to normal at the worst possible time. 

Jeno’s head jerks upwards far too quickly, and the legs of his flimsy folding chair skid out from under him. The chair tips backwards, and deposits Jeno in a neat heap on the floor. 

“Oh my god, are you okay? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you--”

Jeno’s vision swims a little. 

He rights himself as fast as possible, shooting a thumbs up in the direction that he assumes is forward.

Yeah, that’s forward. 

“Agh, god, I’m sorry, are you sure you’re alright?”

The words all string themselves together at an impossible speed, and Jeno worries more for the other person. 

Boy. With blue bangs. Ah, yes, just Jeno’s luck.

All he can do is nod and smile. 

The smile feels a little strained, and the boy starts bouncing on the balls of his feet, face frozen in a grimace. 

He looks genuinely concerned, and it’s kind of terrifying. Jeno panics. 

“I’m okay, really.”

And he catches himself just a second too late.

_Did that..._

_Did that just come from me?_

Well, Jeno’s voice is a little deeper than he remembers. That happens, sometimes. His throat feels weird. 

To his further surprise, the boy grins widely, his eyebrows shooting up. 

The sudden change in his expression is almost too theatrical to be real, and even his voice shoots up to a more excited, higher pitch. 

“You _do_ talk!” He’s all but jumping now, bending his knees and kind of bobbing up and down. The whole action is too exaggerated to be intentional, and Jeno can’t help but offer a semi-traumatized smile. 

He looks down to the ice cream in front of him again, hoping once again that the boy will just ask for what he wants and leave, to spare Jeno any further embarrassment. 

“No, no, that can wait!” He looks so damn happy, and Jeno probably seems horrified. “You can, like, talk!” 

_“I know.”_ Jeno mouths, hoping his desperation doesn’t show. 

“Well, then,” The boy’s eyes are comically wide at this point, “Why don’t you?” 

Jeno’s brain, with a rush of static, fizzles out and dies. 

“Wh-”

The boy freezes.

“Oh, god, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that, it’s not my place, uh...” He squeezes his eyes shut as the grimace kind of returns to his face. 

It would be a little endearing, maybe even _cute_ , if Jeno wasn’t too busy being in shock over what had just happened in the last five minutes. 

_No!_

The thought leaves almost as quickly as it comes. 

“I’m sorry for bothering you.” The boy’s voice comes again, and Jeno furrows his brow. 

He has his hands up in a kind of _guilty as charged_ gesture, and he looks to be in pain. 

Jeno doesn’t know how to respond. 

“I’ll just... Go.” 

He does just that, withdrawing and tilting his head as though he’s scolding himself, and Jeno abruptly snaps out of it. 

_Wait!_

But when he opens his mouth, no sound comes out.

\-- ↻ -- 

_Well, he probably hates you now._

_Ha. Ha ha. It’s fine. There are probably plenty of people who hate you._

_No harm done in adding one more to the list._

It’s almost 7:00, and Jeno is heading back out into the town, dragging his feet behind him. 

He’s been reliving that awkward exchange for hours, and he knows he won’t stop at any point in the foreseeable future. 

Which is why Jeno pauses right at the start of the boardwalk, turning around and just staring at the sand for a minute. He’s trying to distract himself, but is wildly unsuccessful. 

The setting sun has cast an orange glow onto it, and Jeno’s eyes glaze over almost as soon as he looks at it. 

In terms of actions, Jeno’s always been an over-and-done-with kind of person. Quite honestly, he believes that it’s better to think before doing something in order to avoid having to think about it after the fact. 

He is sure that half the world would be able to find more than a few flaws in that logic, but it’s worked for him, and that’s all that matters. At least, until now.

It’s a strange feeling, one that he’s only read about. 

Regret.

Of course, being human, Jeno’s had his fair share of regrets. 

He’s far from perfect, and that’s alright. 

But he’s never felt so strongly about something so seemingly insignificant as a single graceless conversation. It’s always been considered a somewhat foolish pastime, traveling back through memories and picking out unsavory moments to dissect and critique. 

It’s all very new to Jeno, and he feels quite like an idiot. 

He doesn’t understand why it all feels like such a big deal to him. 

_I’m not saying that things have to sort themselves out._

_I just sometimes wonder why they’re happening._

_Why?_

\-- ↻ --

Time speeds up again, and Jeno can’t decide whether he likes it or not. 

He’s not sure what shifted so suddenly, but days are starting to blur together and nights barely even exist in his memory.

Jeno figures he just hit his head or something. 

Summer days are supposed to go by slowly, languidly, like molasses or something equally poetic. 

But everything and nothing is happening all at once, and it just isn’t _right_.

Even looking back is a strain on Jeno’s mind. Whenever he tries, he always ends up with the same unrelated jumble of memories. 

City lights, lemons, blue hair dye, the same sky that’s been hanging over the world for billions of years. 

Jeno doesn’t know the day of the week, or the exact date. All that he knows is the familiar late July heat that makes everything hazy.

People come and go, and Jeno’s routine of silent smiles and nods is near perfect, unwavering. 

But it’s all just so boring. _Everything_ is boring. 

He’d never admit to it, but he craves something different. Maybe an actual conversation would do him some good. He’d even be satisfied by a few awkward interactions here and there. 

Faces are blank, and Jeno doesn’t know what’s changed. 

_At least awkwardness is human._

He might even be a little scared by how unhappy he’s suddenly become. This is the way it’s been for the past four years, and he’d never had a problem with it before. 

Parts of his brain are at war.

_You know why this is all happening._

_Do I, now?_

And it’s the same repeated sentiments over and over, a cycle of pure confusion before Jeno concedes and allows himself to acknowledge something he knows isn’t there. 

_You’ve had a taste of what could have been._

What _could have been?_

If anything, the thought makes Jeno more perplexed than before. 

He knows things are starting to piece themselves together, slow as it may be. There are gaps in his thought process, little missing pieces of the jigsaw puzzle. 

Jeno drops his pen. 

This isn’t an existential crisis. 

Whoever told you that is wrong. 

It’s fine. He’s fine. 

He just needs to stop writing for a second, and breathe, and remember where he is, and everything will be fine. 

Right? 

Jeno hears footsteps, but doesn’t dare look up. 

“Hey-- wait, are you okay?” 

He hears the words, recognizes the voice, but doesn’t dare process them. It’s all just sound. 

_Are_ you _what could have been?_

“Oh, come on, don’t dismiss me so quickly.” 

There’s a smile in his voice, and it’s more than Jeno could have ever hoped for. 

He drops the book somewhere beside him, and blinks a few times to reacquaint himself with his surroundings. 

The boy laughs, and Jeno glances upwards. It’s a kind of weird laugh. Nice, though. 

“Cute.” The boy mutters.

Jeno raises his eyebrows. 

“You’re cute.” He swats his hand before Jeno even has time to blush. “I said what I said, let’s move on.” 

_In shock_ is simultaneously an exaggeration and an understatement. 

When Jeno doesn’t reply, or have any visible reaction whatsoever, the boy’s smile falters a bit. He’s remembering something-- Jeno’s seen that expression before. 

“Well,” The boy says abruptly, “I won’t bother you for long.” 

And _this_ must be the desperation that Jeno’s only read of in books.

He doesn’t really want the boy to leave, not now, just when things are starting to get interesting. 

Well, not interesting. Just different.

_You’re interesting._

_Seriously, stop!_

People are odd creatures, Jeno thinks for the hundredth time. 

The boy’s smile has quickly returned, and he points to the corner of the display without batting an eye. 

Ah, right. Another week, another pristine squround of untouched lemon sorbet. 

Jeno hands him a cup, and the two just look at each other for a second. 

It’s a lot more awkward than it needs to be. 

Jeno feels alive. 

The boy seems to be expecting something, with a badly concealed look of anticipation. Like he’s looking for a reason not to leave.

What Jeno wants to say isn’t something that can be conveyed by his usual distant expressions and gestures. 

The boy seems to notice him thinking. “You can talk to me, you know,” He says, leaning in conspiratorially with a little wink that he seems to think the better of a few seconds later. 

Jeno chews the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, and it’s just such a _good_ feeling. He’s started reacting weirdly to the smallest of things, he notices. 

Oh well, it’s more entertaining this way. Generally, anyways.

He clears his throat and hopes he hasn’t forgotten how to talk in the past week. 

“What’s your name?” 

_Yeah_ , he thinks, _that pretty much sums it up_.

Jeno can’t very well ask the boy why he can’t stop thinking about him, or why he seems so perfectly content all the time, or why his hair is dyed so strangely--

But the boy looks completely overjoyed at the question, and Jeno wonders how he’s confident enough to let his emotions show so clearly all the time. Perhaps it’s easier that way. There’s no worrying about being judged, there’s no fear, there’s not a single care in the world. 

And Jeno seriously thinks, for just a second-- if the boy seems on top of the world at just a simple question, what would it take to make him even happier? 

He doesn’t even question why the thought crosses his mind. All he knows is that he wants to see that smile again. 

And maybe again after that. 

And maybe he’ll keep wanting to see that grin for the rest of his life. 

Jeno’s getting ahead of himself again.

Nevertheless, it’s a nice smile. 

“Why do you ask?” The boy asks, and it’s punctuated with an eyebrow wiggle that finally does Jeno in.

He laughs, and the boy looks victorious. 

“I’m sorry, you don’t need to--”

He only swats at Jeno again. “Jaemin. My name’s Jaemin. What’s yours?” 

It’s said like a challenge, and Jeno decides that this is the kind of confusion he can live with. 

“Jeno.” 

Jaemin nods. “Jeno,” He repeats, “That’s cool. I mean, that’s a nice name. Uh... Sorry. I’m not usually this weird.” 

He buries his face and his hands, and Jeno can see the blush creeping up his neck.

“I don’t think you’re weird.” 

Oh, how unnecessary that statement was. 

Still, Jaemin looks at him through his fingers, and there’s that glint in his eyes again. 

_What?_

“Thank you.” He replies easily, as though he hadn’t been totally embarrassed a second ago. “Well, I’ll leave you alone now.” 

Jeno hopes the way he freezes isn’t visible. 

“I’ll see you later?” Jaemin says, and it’s more of a question. 

Yet another that Jeno doesn’t know how to answer. 

He just nods, and he’s alone again. 

\-- ↻ --

Maybe Jeno’s a little crazy for trying to Google “what is love” and expecting a result other than some song from the 90’s. 

Well, let’s back up for a moment.

The rest of the day went by as days do. Uneventfully. Routinely. All of that. 

Watching the sun set with a few haphazard streaks of pink scattered across the sky, Jeno couldn’t help but think:

_Wow, I’m completely and totally not in love._

Yeah, that was the exact phrasing. 

It may seem a strange thought, but it was seriously just a simple observation. 

Now, Jeno knows a few things. 

He knows he’s 18.

He knows that he thinks far more than necessary. 

And lastly, he knows that he’s seen way more trashy rom-coms than the average person. 

You probably didn’t see that last one coming. Believe it or not, 15 year old Jeno was something of a hopeless romantic. Emphasis on hopeless.

That phase had been long since forgotten, as Jeno had grown and moved on to more interesting topics, such as... Behavioral psychology. 

Who are we kidding, wide-eyed, curly-haired high school freshman Jeno was probably a much more entertaining person to be around. 

Anyways, at the time, he’d focused less on his own nonexistent love life, convinced that he was too young for something like that. 

These purposefully suppressed memories had found their way back out, somehow... Which led Jeno to a lot thinking, as expected. He’s older now, and if he had happened to be in one of those dumb coming-of-age movies, he should definitely have a love interest by now. 

So, yeah, his usual train of thought had gotten a little twisted, and all that was concluded by the time the sun had totally disappeared behind the horizon was that Jeno is pathetic and alone. 

He doesn’t want to be in love, or anything like that. 

But being who he is, you could say he’s curious. 

And everyone knows, Jeno can’t be truly curious without progressing to question everything he thinks he knows. 

And that’s what leads us to the cursed Google search. 

The inquiry also yields a song by Twice, which Jeno is properly amused by.

Yeah, that one went on the “gay summer depression” Spotify playlist.

However, the fact stands that he hasn’t really had much success. Of course, our trustly pal Wikipedia attempted to help him out. 

_“Love encompasses a range of strong and positive emotional and mental states, from the most sublime virtue or good habit, the deepest interpersonal affection and to the simplest pleasure.”_

But what does that even _mean_? 

Jeno scrunches up his face, squinting at his phone. 

Way to be vague, internet.

There’s a good amount of tacky heart clip-arts on the tab, but they don’t tell him anything.

Jeno also finds a surprising amount of religious stuff that, for the most part, makes him want to drive his head through a wall. 

A short while passes, and Jeno’s yet to be enlightened. 

_I thought Google knew everything._

He’s making his way through the empty streets at this point, his phone screen the only light save for the scattered lampposts. It’s one of those nights that aren’t really dark, but instead cast a blue glow down on everything. 

The waves, as always, break in the distance, loud as ever.

One might have expected this coastal town to be like all the others, with small pastel buildings and brightly painted signs everywhere. It was quite the opposite. The buildings are uniform and built mostly of brownstone, as one might find in any other suburb.

You probably wouldn’t even know that the ocean was a few yards away if you couldn’t hear its constant crashing. 

Go a little deeper into the town and you’ll find some semblance of stereotypical beachside serenity. 

Someone’s put light bulbs up, strung together between buildings and over fields, like someone’s always having a minimalist wedding or something. 

On Tuesday nights, there’s always smooth jazz music coming from somewhere. 

When Jeno was around 10, he’d tried to find its source. 

No matter how many corners he turned, or how far he walked, the sound of saxophones would just keep traveling farther and farther away until it faded completely into the background, and Jeno forgot what he was looking for. 

But Jeno supposes he didn’t really care too much at the time. After all, 10-year-olds usually have the attention span of a fruit fly, or something equally hyperactive. 

They also don’t have to worry about their voices, or their futures, or love. 

And we’ve returned to the dreaded topic. 

Jeno’s passive scrolling has only given him one answer. 

_Literally no one knows what love is._

_Why do they talk about it all the time, then?_

It feels kind of idiotic. Jeno remembers, he’s had these same thoughts before-- or maybe it’s just déjà vu. Whatever. 

What’s important is that Jeno’s wondered about this before, and whatever he’d found had led him to become something of a cynic. Being cynical is tiring, and Jeno just wants some answers. 

He gives up, tucking his phone in between the pages of his notebook. 

_If no one knows, I guess I’ll have to find out for myself._

\-- ↻ --

The skateboard kid is back. 

It’s around 8, far too early for anyone to be zooming down the boardwalk. Especially in summer. 

The intense pink has since faded from his hair, leaving a kind of rose-gold. He’s holding a large bouquet of red flowers, and the whole scene is rather amusing to Jeno. 

A few petals scatter behind him as he passes, fluttering delicately to the wood below. The kid looks totally oblivious to the trail of tulips he’s leaving behind.

Jeno’s eyes follow him, wondering what business he could have with a bouquet at such a time.

And then, someone screeches something that Jeno can’t hear, and the boy crashes quite unceremoniously into a nearby bench. 

Another boy with hair the color of carrots appears from somewhere, leaning down to smack Skateboard Kid on the head. Kind of overkill, considering the way he’s already collapsed on the ground. 

Jeno glances away.

It’s kind of cold again, and the fact that the display case also doubles as a giant freezer isn’t really helping.

Still, Jeno is happy today.

He’s not exactly sure why. 

It’s just one of those days. You know, the ones where you wake up and you’re like, ‘damn, it’s a good day’.

One of the boys further down the boardwalk shrieks, and Jeno’s mildly unsettled before realizing that he’s laughing. 

He leans back in his chair, trying not to fall again.

A few days have passed since the whole love thing, but it still tugs at the back of Jeno’s mind every now and then. Being who he is, he wills the thoughts away as soon as they come. 

That isn’t important right now. 

Jeno’s focused on having one good day. Just one. 

\-- ↻ --

It’s a thoroughly unpleasant day. 

Well, it isn’t _that_ bad.

It just started raining and Jeno didn’t even really process it, so he only sat there, annoyed at the clouds. 

Not to mention that he got completely soaked and probably looked like an idiot, glaring at the sky. 

As expected, no one really came out to the boardwalk. Yeah, the tide came in halfway up the beach, but it was fine. 

Jeno sighs as the last of the clouds clear from the sky, leaving behind a more characteristic cyan sky that kind of hurts to look at. 

And, of course, the sun is back out, and that’s even more annoying. 

Jeno’s clothes are damp, his hair is wet, and he feels so _dumb_.

The heavens do not appear to care very much about him. As usual. 

There’s a rainbow directly in front of him, disappearing behind the horizon. 

_That’s pretty gay, not gonna lie._

This is the full extent of Jeno’s stupidity, in case you were wondering.

_Is this a sign?_ He thinks, semi-consciously. _Does this mark the start of my epic homosexual adventure?_

Jeno has to smile at that one.

He’s sure that, if he were actually to go on an epic homosexual adventure, it certainly wouldn’t start with fading rainbows and a centimeter-deep puddle of rain water all around the floor of the shop.

Jeno physically writes out a keyboard smash in his journal.

_AAGERSDTYFGVHJIJKOIUVYP_

Whatever higher power is up there is most definitely laughing at him. 

_Thanks a lot, universe._

\-- ↻ --

It’s around 11:00 PM. 

Jeno’s sitting in a tree. 

He’s sure his brain must have run out of battery or something earlier in the day, because he’d thought it was a good idea to climb out of the window facing the back of the apartment building just to sit there. Though, in hindsight, it wasn’t a particularly bad decision. 

Sure, it’s kind of cold, but there’s a nice view. 

Dim, yellow lights shine in the windows of the buildings in front him. 

The scattered streetlights only illuminate short distances, leaving little gaps of darkness between them. 

Streets themselves, for the most part, remain empty. There are crickets chirping somewhere. 

There are also lampposts down the boardwalk, brightening a perfect strip of wooden path. 

And then there’s the beach. The ocean continues in its little back and forth movements all the way down the shore, angled waves catching the light of the moon and glistening white. 

Jeno can make out the little uniform dips in the sand too, like a man-made pattern. 

Even the Ferris wheel, off in the distance, is visible, the little colored carts looking as though they’re floating in the sky. 

Jeno supposes it’s beautiful, but it’s a sight seen almost every night, something he’s long since grown used to. Something he’s taken for granted.

_But maybe that’s the whole point._

_Finding something remarkable among the ordinary._

\-- ↻ --

Days pass, as days do. 

Jeno’s only consolation is in the fact that time seems to have assumed a constant speed, one that doesn’t give him whiplash. 

It’s been quite a while since he’s had an existential crisis.

_That’s good, right? That’s good._

He hasn’t had an uncomfortable conversation, or seen a cheesy wink, or overanalyzed a smile in so long. 

Jeno will never admit that he misses it. 

_Not it. Him._

\-- ↻ --

It happens on a Tuesday. 

Actually, a lot of weird stuff tends to happen on Tuesdays-- but that’s not the point. 

It’s just another afternoon by the beach. The sky is starting to cloud over, but the sky remains its usual turquoise color. 

No rain, Jeno is relieved to see. 

There have been a few customers thus far in the day, but Jeno’s thoughts are occupied, for the most part, by something else. 

The lights on the ferris wheel have been flickering on and off all day, and Jeno knows it’s that time of year again. 

Not _that_ time of year. We’ve still got a ways to go before Christmas.

It must be nearing the time for the carnival.

Of course, it’s not really something that Jeno’s too excited about, but it’s always nice. To see the colors in the distance at night, that is. 

There’s something comforting about it, to know that there is liveliness and joy and all these other specifically human things going on at such a close distance to him. 

It also holds something of a sentimental significance. Of course, Jeno has never been the mushy type, but again, it’s kind of a nice feeling. 

Nostalgia. 

Humans are strange. 

Jeno’s in no mood to dive fully back into his childhood memories. At least, not now. 

Apart from the flashing lights and occasional bursts of cheesy music, the day remains uneventful. 

The sun is starting to peek back out from behind the wispy clouds, and with its presence comes the additional swarms of people up and down the boardwalk. 

Jeno’s thoughts, today, are limited to what he can see. 

The glaring ocean, an expanse of sand that must be far too warm to walk on, and the display of ice cream obstructing his view as he shrinks lower down in his seat. 

Nothing is new. 

_Maybe it’s better that way._

Hours pass, and Jeno’s preoccupied smile remains on his face. 

Days are slow again. Like honey, or molasses, or something equally sweet. 

It’s normal. Almost too normal.

Anticipation is starting to set itself at the back of his mind, but Jeno’s willing to put his premonitions aside for the sake of enjoying another disgustingly warm summer day.

\-- ↻ --

Actually, that feeling of anticipation ends up morphing into something else soon enough, as do most feelings when it comes to Jeno. 

It’s another one of those blue nights. It’s not dark, just weird and shadowy. The sky seems lower than usual. Closer, like it could fall at any moment. 

But, of course, that’s not what’s on Jeno’s mind.

_Something’s missing._

_Something’s_

_Some_

_S_

_Wait._

He stops short in the middle of the empty street. 

A firefly darts by, and Jeno’s distracted by it for a second. Attention span wise, perhaps not much has changed since the age of 10.

It disappears somewhere, and Jeno’s still standing there. 

The row of lamp posts off to his left lights up abruptly, coating a strip of the stone in an artificial yellow glow. He looks towards them reflexively and, wow, the universe really doesn’t want him to focus. 

_That’s not the universe’s fault, you dumbass._

_That’s not the_

_Th_

_Oh no._

His eyes go wide and his gaze goes to the beach.

_Wait a second-_

_Wait a_

_Wai_

_STOP_

His hands are empty. 

Now, Jeno’s not too much of an athlete, but with the way he sprints back to the boardwalk, he could have fooled anyone. 

The notebook is under his chair. Well, it better be anyways. 

Now, he actually considers _sailing_ over the damn display case at the front of the shop, having gathered too much momentum to stop himself, but he swerves at the last second through the door at the back. 

Jeno doesn’t know why he ran like that, for the book sits right where he left it on the ground. 

He picks it up, and decides that maybe his intense emotional attachment to an inanimate object is something to be reconsidered. 

It’s the same familiar thing, stamped sun fading even more. Unremarkable. Jeno stares at it blankly before lifting his gaze up to the beach. 

An almost-full moon glows from its place in the sky, creating patches of white across the nearly black ocean and sand dark enough to be coal. 

There isn’t a single star above. 

Still, in the insufficient light, Jeno can make out a silhouette, sitting in the sand far too close to the increasing tide. 

The waves will only get higher up from here, and whoever it is _has_ to move. 

He squints for a moment. 

_Screw it._

Jeno steps closer to them, his sneakers making a soft crunching noise in the sand. 

That’s probably what prompts the person to turn around when he gets closer, looking up with a distinctive expression of childlike wonder despite red-rimmed eyes. 

“Hey-- Jaemin?” 

\-- ↻ --

The water comes in only a few centimeters from their feet. 

It’s silent but for the waves, and the distant jazz music from Jeno’s left. It clashes with the on-and off carnival music from the right, creating an overload of faraway sound.

Jeno can’t tear his eyes away from Jaemin, the way he’s tucked his knees up to his chest and is pointedly hiding his face.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he’d been crying. A lot. And Jeno wanted nothing more but to inquire as to his situation, even just offer a simple, non-invasive “are you okay?” but he simply could not find the words. 

It was frustrating, and Jeno cursed himself for not being able to do even the most basic of human things. 

“Have you ever wanted to die, Jeno?”

Jaemin’s voice is soft, though somewhat strained. 

The question catches Jeno off guard, and he sits there with what he assumes is an expression of shock for a second, until Jaemin lets out a quiet laugh devoid of any joy.

It doesn’t sound right. It isn’t right. 

Jeno’s panic gets the best of him. “What happened to you?” 

“Me? Nothing’s happened to me.” 

“Wh-why are you..” 

Jaemin cuts him off with a glare that quickly loses its fury, becoming hopeless. “Do you expect me to tell you my life story, or something? Do you want me to vent to you?” He murmurs, not lifting his gaze from the ocean. 

“I mean, if it makes you feel better.” Jeno hesitates, as that probably wasn’t the right thing to say. 

“Why do you care? We- we aren’t even _friends_.”

It’s meant to be harsh, meant to push Jeno away, but he doesn’t flinch. 

“I know.”

Jaemin looks at him with an expression of bewilderment and disgust before conceding, and sinking a little lower down. 

He doesn’t say anything for a long second, and Jeno looks absentmindedly up at the sky from his place on the sand. 

“Listen.” Jaemin looks him dead in the eyes. 

_I’m listening._

“I want to trust you.”

He stops there, and Jeno raises an eyebrow. “And?” 

“I don’t know the first thing about you. I don’t know your fucking last name.” 

He blinks. “Lee.” 

“Hmm?”

“It’s Lee. My last name.” He tilts his head. “Nothing’s stopping you from trusting me.” 

It’s flawed, as Jeno’s logic usually is-- severely so, but Jaemin looks hopeful for a minute, and that might just be a success in and of itself. 

“Jaemin Na.” He breathes, extending a hand for handshake before thinking the better of it. 

Jeno takes it a split second before he can retract it, and Jaemin looks at him with a more distant curiosity. 

“Tell me about yourself, Jaemin Na.”

\-- ↻ -- 

Jaemin still hasn’t let go of Jeno’s hand. He hasn’t said anything yet either, and Jeno is quickly losing hope. 

Is it still intruding if you aim to comfort someone? 

“I’m sorry,” He blurts, and Jaemin looks at him like he’s crazy. 

“You’re trying. I appreciate that.” 

_I failed, though._

Jeno blinks a few times. This isn’t important, not now-- but he doesn’t know what to say. 

A longer while passes before Jaemin looks up at him again, complete with his usual awed look. He inhales sharply.

“Have you ever wanted to die, Jeno?” He repeats the question, but this time, it’s more of a challenge. 

Jeno shakes his head. 

“Me neither,” He laughs mirthlessly, and it’s short. Coarse. “I can’t imagine it. Can you?” 

“No.” 

Jaemin looks Jeno in the eyes with a different kind of intensity, as if daring him to look away.

He doesn’t. 

“My best friend, he wears long sleeves in the summer. I never questioned it. I should have.” 

Jaemin doesn’t blink.

_Oh god, no._

“I should have asked him about it, just casually, you know? He still thinks I have no idea.” He pauses there, avoiding eye contact and trying desperately to keep his voice steady. “If it’s not knives from his kitchen, it’s razor blades. If it’s not razor blades, it’s scissors. Fucking _scissors_. How does that even work?” 

Jeno doesn’t know what to say. 

“It’s been like this for who knows _how_ long and he never said anything. I could have helped--” His voice cracks just as his facade does. “I could have... Done something-- Damn it!” Tears are starting to stream down Jaemin’s cheeks again, and he turns, hiding his face in his free hand. 

His words are muffled. “I don’t even know what happened.” 

Jeno’s heart is heavy in his chest, and he blurts, “I’m sorry.” 

Jaemin looks up at him with tired, deadened eyes. “This isn’t about _me_.”

“I didn’t mean--” 

_“No.”_

The tide comes in even higher, and Jaemin only hugs his knees closer to his chest. He doesn’t seem to want to move. 

He knows it’ll only get higher from here. 

“I’m sorry. You’re trying to help, and I--” Jaemin inhales sharply. “He was just so happy, you know? So thoughtful. He’d wake up at horrible hours just to talk to me from across the world, and... And it’s not like him, to... To cut his fucking wrists open and pretend like everything’s okay.”

It’s so cold. 

“We’ve known each other for, like, ten years. Who’s to say it’s not my fault?” 

“You don’t know what’s going on with him,” Jeno tries, knowing there’s nothing that will change Jaemin’s mind. If he can do something, it’ll take a hell of a lot of time. 

Time. How much time is left for them? 

“I should know. I should know.” Jaemin mutters. 

This is unreasonable-- so much about this is unreasonable.

“If he didn’t say anything, how are you supposed to know?” 

Jeno knows he should stop talking, or at the very least, think a little bit more before he says something stupid. 

“Is that not what friends do?” 

“Friends aren’t psychic.” Jeno states, and hopes it didn’t sound harsh. 

Jaemin will probably take it just as hard either way. 

He just looks forward for a short while before turning back to Jeno and looking at him skeptically. 

“I guess not.” 

\-- ↻ --

When Jaemin leaves a while later, with the unwavering (but still unconvincing) promise that he’s fine and will stay safe, Jeno comes to the only somewhat startling realization that he’s empty-handed once again. 

\-- ↻ --

Some mornings are blurry, dissolving into the day ahead. 

This isn’t one of those mornings. 

Jeno can sense individual seconds going by. He can hear words spoken far away, his mind worryingly blank. 

It’s slow, and Jeno is hyper-aware of everything going on around him. 

_Perhaps this is what drugs feel like._

_Perhaps this is what_

_Perhaps th_

_Per_

He sighs. 

Not a single familiar face is visible in the crowd traveling down the boardwalk. 

Not Skateboard Kid, or his loud friend.

Not the teenage girls who seem extremely smitten with the pair. 

Not Jaemin. 

Jaemin, with his unevenly dyed hair, holding Jeno’s notebook and hiding his pain with a scarily convincing smile. 

Jeno searches the crowd for faces that betray even a single hint of the same hurt, anything similar. 

He doesn’t find anything, any emotion other than the superficial joy that so many people seem to feel at the simple sight of the ocean and the warm white sand before it. 

_Is everyone actually happy, or just good actors?_

Jeno brushes the thought away before he can feel it fade again, with no worn book or plain blue pen to immortalize it.

He can think just fine without the notebook, can remember and process whatever’s in his mind— but the medium is more comforting than anything else. Jeno’s sure that he’ll need to think without anything to keep him steady, and acknowledges how unhealthy his reliance on the book is. 

He isn’t concerned about Jaemin reading his notes. It’s all just words, anyways.

Jeno isn’t one to have incriminating thoughts in any form. There are people out there who spend their whole lives studying the answers to the questions he’s asking. 

That in itself is an odd thought. 

Hours go by, and crowds die down only to grow in size again, an endless cycle of people coming and going. 

Despite himself, Jeno thinks, _who’s staying?_

He’s a little scared of the answer. 

\-- ↻ -- 

Jeno’s the one on the beach this time.

It can’t be long after 9:00 PM. 

He sits somewhere between the water and the boardwalk, and looks up at the sky like he always does. 

He’s found it’s a good place to focus when there are things you don’t want to think about. 

It’s like watching someone dot paint across a blank canvas, the way stars brighten and peek out from beneath the dark, slowly traveling clouds.

The moon is full and round tonight, and Jeno’s relieved that the sky isn’t at all empty.

There would be nowhere to look.

There’s a soft thud, and Jeno looks to where his book has been dropped directly into the sand. 

He just stares at it for a moment, not processing anything. 

“How old are you, Jeno Lee?” 

“Eighteen.” He replies, not glancing away from the book even after he quickly recognizes the voice. 

How could he not, when the sound of it sends an unfamiliar wave of _something_ through his heart? 

Jaemin sits down, picking the book up so that Jeno is forced to look at him. 

The beginnings of a smirk are written across Jaemin’s face, and Jeno finds himself suddenly uninterested in the notebook. 

“I didn’t read it, don’t worry.” 

“I know.” 

Neither looks away, and a second of awkwardly intense eye contact passes. 

“And how is that?” 

Jeno considers this as he watches Jaemin search his face for something that he doesn’t seem to find. 

“I trust you.” 

Jaemin raises an eyebrow. “Why?” 

“You trust me. It’s only fair that I do the same.” 

And Jeno’s deficient logic quickly returns, a telltale sign that he is back to his old, kind of stupid self. Jaemin seems amused by it, giving him a confused smile. 

Before Jeno can think the better of it, he asks, “How are you?” 

Jaemin doesn’t falter, but drops the book directly into Jeno’s lap, folding his hands. “Dealing. Adapting. All of that.” 

“Rather quickly, I see.” 

“Resilience is not a flaw, my good sir.”

Jeno’s next question remains unasked, but Jaemin answers it anyways. He’s perceptive, Jeno realizes. 

“I’ll talk to him.”

“When?” 

“When the time is right.” 

Jeno nods stiffly. “Good.” 

“Yup.” Jaemin says, his smile finally wavering. “What’s wrong with you?” 

He seems to quickly realize that he’s chosen the wrong words, but the message gets across. 

Jeno forces a laugh. “I wish I knew. It doesn’t matter much either way, does it?” 

Jaemin is quiet for a moment, following Jeno’s gaze to the place at which the ocean seems to meet the equally dark night sky. “I have an idea,” He says. 

“I’m listening.” 

“Are you really?” 

Jeno blinks, looking back at Jaemin and raising an eyebrow quizzically. 

Skepticism is a somewhat uncommon look on him, but it feels right in the moment. 

“I- we, I mean..” He searches for the words, and Jeno can’t help but smile. “Am I right in assuming you’re going to university in the fall?” 

_Oh._

Jeno nods slowly. 

“That makes two of us. How- what if we--” Jaemin gives up, looking thoroughly annoyed with himself. “I don’t know how to say this without it being weird.” 

And Jeno’s face reacts quicker than his mind, quickly flushing red before he can properly evaluate the statement. 

Jaemin notices, and laughs nervously, “I didn’t mean anything like--” 

Jeno swats at Jaemin, somewhat mocking of the way he’d done the same before. “Just keep talking.” 

“Okay, it’s like… Man, let’s just _do_ something.” 

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” 

“Here-- just tell me something.” 

“Anything?”

Jaemin nods. “About yourself.” 

“I’m not that interesting.” Jeno says slowly, and Jaemin rolls his eyes. 

“Yes, you are, but that’s not what I’m trying to say,” he sighs, “Just... Tell me something you haven’t done, then.” 

Jeno thinks about it for a second. “I’ve never left this town..?” 

Jaemin doesn’t even hesitate, grabbing Jeno’s hand and physically dragging him up the beach to the boardwalk. 

“Wait--! What are you doing?” 

“I’m kidnapping you.” Jaemin looks back and gives Jeno a blinding grin, and he can’t really complain. 

“Where are we going, then?” 

“Well, Jeno Lee.” He replies, not sparing Jeno a second glance. “We’re leaving this town.” 

\-- ↻ --

Of all the cars that Jaemin could have had, Jeno did not expect a convertible that looks like it belongs in one of those 1980’s coming-of-age movies. Better yet, it’s the color of a Creamsicle, and Jeno can’t help but poke some fun at it. 

They’re in the parking lot of the hotel that sits a little before the start of the boardwalk, staring at the damn car and still holding hands.

Jeno thinks they should probably get out of there before someone calls the police, but as of right now, he’s trying desperately not to laugh. 

“This is your car?” He manages, all the confusion and frustration of the day quickly forgotten. 

“Yeah!” Jaemin says brightly, and Jeno has to look away. “Why, is there something wrong with it?” 

“No, it’s just... Don’t people look at you weird when you’re driving?” 

“Sure!” He says, still equally bright. “But that’s part of the fun.” 

“I’m sorry, but I feel like this is a car someone with a Patrick Swayze mullet would drive.” 

“Is this you telling me to grow out my hair?” 

“No! God, don’t do that. I just feel like... you’d use this car to pick your girlfriend up and drive her to a diner and call her “sweetheart” or something.” Jeno pauses. “Maybe you’d skip school and drive this car through a glass window.” 

He’s excited without realizing it, and weirdly enough, it’s enough to make the quiet boy talkative. Or maybe that’s just Jaemin’s effect.

Jaemin laughs. “I’m no Ferris Bueller. As for the other thing... Yeah, that’s not happening. I haven’t seen a single diner in my entire lifetime.” 

Jeno looks up, sure he must be annoying as hell right about now, but is enjoying it too much to quit. “Is that the only reason that’s not happening?” 

“Well, I’m not really into girls.” And then Jaemin _winks_ , and Jeno doubles over laughing. “What? I’m a raging homosexual, I thought that was obvious!” 

Jeno can’t say anything but, “Why did you _wink_ , I swear to god--”

“Maybe I’ll wink more often, then.” He drops Jeno’s hand, and he falls quickly onto the pavement. “Alright, enough, get in the car.”

\-- ↻ -- 

“It’s not that funny, seriously!” Jaemin mutters as Jeno continues to shake with silent laughter, “16-year-old me just made some questionable decisions--” 

“Shut up, you’re making it worse.” 

“If you’re going to keep clowning my car, I’ll throw you out. I will!”

Another thing Jeno’s learned: Jaemin is not at all good at pretending to be mad. Even when he’s not smiling, his eyes always look as though he is. 

It’s probably around 10:30 PM, which means an hour has passed and Jeno still hasn’t let go of the car thing.

“Okay. Sorry.” Not even a minute passes. “But just imagine picking a date up in this car.” 

“There’s gotta be an ‘eject’ button somewhere around here,” Jaemin mutters, seriously looking around the dashboard. 

“Eyes on the road, buzzkill.” 

They’re driving through the center of town, which is lit up with the kind of neon signs that don’t make Jaemin’s car look particularly out of place. 

The roads, as expected, are close to empty. 

Jaemin looks up abruptly. “So, where do you wanna go?” 

“Huh?” Jeno’s eyes go wide. “You didn’t have anywhere in mind?” 

“Spontaneity, my dear Jeno!” 

“This is... so weird.” 

Jaemin looks at him again, and Jeno slaps his cheek lightly with the intent of making him look at the road. It doesn’t work, of course, because Jaemin’s too busy smiling like an idiot at the gesture.

Jeno should have seen that coming, and has to grab the steering wheel to stop them from crashing into the curb. 

“Please watch the road before both of us die.” Jeno says calmly as Jaemin faces forward again. 

He’s still smiling, and Jeno can’t decide if he wants to slap him or kiss him. 

Actually, Jeno thinks semi-rationally, if he were to do either of those things, Jaemin would probably crash the car. And Jeno values his life a little too much to let that happen. 

“You’re so cute.” Jaemin mutters (for the second time, actually, which should tell Jeno something-- but no, he’s far too oblivious). 

Jeno raises an eyebrow. “Is not wanting to be killed in a car crash cute?” 

Jaemin almost looks at him again before he seems to remember what happened the last time he tried that. “Not usually, but when it’s you it is.” 

Jeno isn’t quite sure what to make of that, and occupies himself with trying not to blush furiously. 

That is, until Jaemin brakes abruptly and he nearly goes flying into the windshield.

“What the fu--” Jeno blurts, stopping when he realizes Jaemin looks equally petrified. 

In front of the car stands a most familiar looking boy. He’s frozen with a hand held up in front of his face, probably to shield his eyes from the high beam headlights that sit only a few inches away from him. 

All three of them are still as statues for a few moments, before Jeno realizes why he looks so familiar. 

His hair has somehow faded even more, and now it’s just an extremely messy mix of pale pink and artificial light brown. Clutched under his free arm is a skateboard. 

“Jesus Christ, Jisung, I could have killed you!”

The boy-- Jisung-- flinches and looks back at Jaemin. His expression of shock hasn’t wavered once, and Jeno doesn’t think he’s even blinked. 

“Yeah, sorry--” Jisung finally manages, but his voice cracks down an octave and the hand he’d been using to hide his face flies to cover his mouth. 

Jaemin starts to say something, but ducks down below the windshield and starts shaking with silent laughter. 

“Ah- _hyung_! I swear to god!” 

When Jaemin resurfaces, Jeno can tell he’s making a conscious effort to look annoyed. He’s failing, as expected, as the corner of his mouth keeps twitching like he’s trying not to smile. 

“Sorry, sorry... Please just go home before someone actually runs you over.”

“Ugh, fine.” It’s at this point that Jisung finally notices Jeno, who’s trying his best to blend into the passenger seat. “Who are you?” 

“Jisung!” Jaemin doesn’t let Jeno reply. “You can’t just ask people who they are!”

“I’d tell you if I knew the answer myself.” Jeno finds himself muttering, offering Jisung a weak salute. 

Jisung returns it with a hesitant smile, and then turns back to Jaemin and starts saying something in rapid-fire Korean. 

Jeno doesn’t quite catch it, but Jaemin shoos the younger boy away before he can finish. “Alright, enough. Please go home.” 

To Jeno’s horror, Jisung smirks before speeding away on his skateboard.

They sit silently in the middle of the road before Jeno turns slowly towards Jaemin. 

“What was that?”

\-- ↻ --

“Your _cousin_? I feel like you know more people around here than I do.”

“Not really.” 

They’d found their way onto the highway at some point, and now Jaemin is just alternating between turning left and right. 

The night makes the lights in distant skyscrapers look like unrealistically bright starts organized in little columns close to the ground.

“Well, we did it.” Jaemin says after a beat. 

“Did what?” 

“We left the town. Congratulations.” 

“Oh, that.” Jeno isn’t sure where to look, so he just stares at Jaemin. “I’d honestly forgotten about that.” 

That gets a smile out of Jaemin, and Jeno revels in it for a second. “What, you thought I was serious about the kidnapping thing?”

“Well, you never know.” 

“What about the whole trust thing?” 

“I don’t know.” Jeno shrugs. “Maybe I wanted to be kidnapped.” 

“I hope you know that that makes no sense.” Jaemin turns right abruptly, and Jeno is thrown against the door. 

“How did you get your driver’s license, I swear--”

Jaemin looks at him innocently. “I took the test, how else?” 

“I’m not kidding, you nearly got us killed three times.” 

Jaemin snorts. “Like I’d ever let you die.” 

Jeno raises an eyebrow. “And why’s that?” 

“You think I want a dead body on my hands?” 

“That’s the only reason? Damn, I thought we had something.” Jeno is somewhat surprised at his old boldness, but he’s beginning to think Jaemin tends to do that to people. 

Jaemin himself seems sincerely caught off guard, and it’s a weirdly good look on him. “No, I-- I mean, I didn’t, bro-- I’m not going to kill you for any reason.” 

“‘Bro.’” Jeno mimics dumbly. 

Jaemin sighs, and Jeno takes this as a cue to search his face for the ever-lingering semblance of joy that writes itself across his face even in irritation. “What would you rather I call you?” 

Jeno smiles, turning back around to look out the window-- or lack thereof. “Well, whatever you want. Try stuff out, I don’t really care.” 

“Whatever I want?” Jeno can hear the smile in Jaemin’s voice. 

“Sure, I guess.” 

“Are you sure about that, darling?” 

Jeno turns back around to glare, only to find Jaemin batting his eyelashes flirtatiously. 

“Do you ever get tired of being this annoying?” 

Jaemin shrugs, looking back to the road. “No, not really. It’s quite entertaining.” 

“For you it is.” Jeno grumbles. 

\-- ↻ --

“Where are we?” 

There’s a comically large sign welcoming them to the city, but in the dark of midnight, neither of them can really read it. 

Once they reach a red light somewhere, Jaemin looks up. 

There are skyscrapers all around them, looming up above with different colored, vibrant lights shining out of them from all directions. 

Jeno stares at the little slivers of pitch-black sky in between the buildings. 

“Well, by the looks of it, I’d say we’re in a city.” 

There are still people walking around, driving their cars, and it’s all just so _loud_.

Jaemin parks in front of a still-open outlet mall, and gets out of the car. 

Jeno doesn’t move. 

“Are you just gonna sit there and stare, or..” 

Jeno narrows his eyes. “Let me think for a second.” 

“What’s there to think about?” 

_Lots_. 

Jaemin walks to the other side of the car and squints. “You think too much.” He opens the car door, undoes Jeno’s seatbelt, and yanks him out of the car by his arm. 

As expected, Jeno falls onto the ground. 

“Get up.” 

Jeno doesn’t, just to spite Jaemin. He just looks up and sighs. “You’re getting too comfortable with ordering me around.”

“You’re the one who’s listening.” 

“Does it look like I'm listening now?” 

To Jeno’s surprise, Jaemin gives up and sits on the ground next to him. 

Well, not ‘gives up’. He simply changes his strategy, grabbing both of Jeno’s hands and staring intently into his eyes. 

“Ah, what..” 

And then Jaemin’s leaning closer, and closer, and his eyes have gone to Jeno’s lips, and Jeno just sits there and does not dare to breathe--

And then Jaemin exhales a shaky little laugh, and screams, “GET UP!” directly into Jeno’s face. 

He darts up off the ground and starts speed walking away, still holding both of Jeno’s hands tightly, which obviously leads to Jeno being dragged across the ground for a short distance before clambering to his feet. He has to jog to keep up with Jaemin. 

“Well, you’re listening to me now, aren’t you?” 

“What the fuck was that?” 

Jaemin looks back just to shoot him a cheeky grin. “Just trying stuff out. It seemed to work, didn’t it?”

He lets go of one of Jeno’s hands, but only tightens his grip on the other. 

“You’re going to cut off my blood circulation.” Jeno complains, as Jaemin leads them... Somewhere. 

“I’m sorry, do I care?” 

“You should.” 

“But I don’t. No one ever died from holding hands, you know.” 

“I’m sure someone, somewhere did.” 

“You’re not someone, somewhere, though. You’re Jeno Lee, and I’ve already told you I’d never kill you.” Jaemin pats the top of Jeno’s head, and Jeno slaps his hand away. 

“Are you like this with everyone?” 

“No, just you.” 

“But why?” 

“Because it’s fun. Besides, I have to compensate for our first real interaction being... Well, just a lot of crying.” 

Jeno’s managed to catch up now, and they have to walk shoulder to shoulder on the narrow sidewalk.

“There’s nothing wrong with some crying every now and then, you know. You can’t always be happy.” 

Jaemin scoffs. “I know, that’s not what I mean.” 

“What do you mean, then?” 

In the past hour, Jeno’s sure he’s talked more than he has in his entire life. 

He doesn’t know why. 

“I mean that I’ve liked you since we first met. As a person, I mean. I don’t want you to think of me as... Whatever it was you met yesterday.” 

“Yeah, and dragging me around on the ground makes for the best possible first impression.” Jeno rolls his eyes, but stops short when he sees Jaemin’s smile falter for a second. 

“I’m serious about this, you know. I could be more gentle if you’d like.” 

Jeno studies Jaemin’s face, which is unsurprisingly hard to do when Jaemin walks at 50 miles per hour. 

“No, that’s fine. Do what you want.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, whatever.” 

And Jaemin’s face lights up again, with a grin that speaks louder than either of them ever could. 

\-- ↻ --

“So... You want us to climb that?” 

The fire escape seems to go on for miles, disappearing into the dark gray clouds. 

“Uh, yeah.” Jaemin says calmly. 

“Okay, but why?” 

“Why not?” 

“Okay, why here, though?” 

“None of the others are close to the ground, duh.” 

Jaemin’s already heading up the narrow steps, and Jeno looks at him quizzically below. 

“You don’t even give me a second to think.” 

“Look, bro, I’m sure you had all the time in the world to think when you were all silent and lonely, but now you have me and I don’t think all that much so you better keep up.” 

Despite how harsh the words are, Jaemin says them with a smile on his face that makes it hard for Jeno to take him seriously. 

He’s unsure what to say in response, so, like an idiot, he just repeats “bro” again. 

Jaemin sighs, audible even from above. “Are you coming, sweetheart?” 

Jeno follows reluctantly. 

They continue traveling up the fire escape for a while, past dark windows and the occasional lit-up one that they have to sprint by. 

That is, until Jaemin stops short in front of one of them and Jeno runs directly into his back. 

“What is it?” 

Jaemin squints, leaning forward towards the window. 

It’s a relatively normal room. A boy sits on his bed, scrolling passively on his phone. 

“Who—“ 

“Lee Donghyuck.” 

Jeno follows Jaemin’s gaze. The boy doesn’t seem to notice them. 

“Do you just know every Korean kid within a 100-mile radius, or something?” 

Jaemin inhales. “Something like that.” 

The boy stops scrolling, but continues staring at his phone. 

“Ah, watch this. He’s going to notice us in 3... 2..” 

Perfectly on cue, the boy— Donghyuck— turns his head and glances upwards to his window. He doesn’t seem alarmed in the slightest to see two guys staring dumbly at him, even a little after midnight. 

Instead, he just rolls off his bed (landing gracefully on his feet, which... Doesn’t really make sense) and steps forward to open the window. 

“Jesus, it’s cold out here.” 

He has a slight accent, Jeno notices. 

Donghyuck just looks around, anywhere but at the two of them, before letting his gaze fall to Jaemin. 

“Na Jaemin. What are you doing here?” 

“I could ask you the same thing.” 

Jeno just watches, feeling stupid. 

“I moved, big surprise,” Donghyuck deadpans, “And you?” 

He doesn’t get an answer.

His gaze wanders from Jaemin, and Jeno feels personally threatened. “Who’s this?” 

“A friend.” Jaemin says, and does he sound defensive? Jeno can’t tell. 

“A friend. Huh.” Donghyuck looks Jeno up and down slowly, and Jeno goes stock still. 

“Oh, come on, don’t do that. You look like you’re gonna eat him, or something.” Jaemin scrunches up his face. 

Donghyuck looks back at him passively. “Never bothered you.” He blinks. “Anyways, this has been nice, and all, but I have more pressing matters to attend to. Plans to make, people to spam, you know how it is.” At this, Donghyuck smiles sweetly. 

Jeno does not, in fact, know how it is. 

Jaemin sighs. “Alright, Hyuck. Which sad transfer student have you set your sights on this time?” 

It’s rhetorical, but Donghyuck looks him straight on, eyes glinting. “He’s Canadian.” And with that, he closes the window with a flourish and returns to whatever it was he was doing before. 

Jaemin only falters for a second before continuing up the fire escape. 

\-- ↻ --

“Oh, he was a friend. Or something. A friend.” 

“You can just say ‘ex’, you know. I won’t judge.” 

“No, but it wasn’t like that.” 

“Are you sure? He looked like..” 

“Nah, man. He makes a game out of seducing new kids. Kind of a psycho.” 

At this, Jeno stops. “You know some pretty questionable people.” 

“Yeah, well. Oh, we’re here!” Jaemin’s voice brightens instantly as he leaps the short distance from the top of the fire escape to the roof of the apartment building. 

Jeno follows. “We climbed that shit for like 10 minutes just to get to the roof?” 

“Where did you think we were going? Heaven?” 

Jeno blinks. 

“Hey, look.” Jaemin points to somewhere in the distance, past the roads still filled with cars and the tops of brightly lit skyscrapers. “You can see the beach from here.” 

Sure enough, if Jeno squints, he can make out the expanse of ocean and sand, with the too familiar row of shops that looks like nothing more than a line from where he stands. 

It’s still there, though. Jeno furrows his brow.

The beach has followed him even here. Jeno wonders if he’ll ever see the end of it.

Of course, the sight reminds him that tonight is nothing more than a distraction; tomorrow, he’ll return to his boring job serving blank-faced people with a smile that hurts if held too long.

Jaemin will go back to staying with his friend, looking for the right moment to send both of their lives crashing down with a single necessary question. 

If Jeno squints even harder, he can see the waves crashing, can hear the sound in his head-- a song that he’s almost memorized. 

He feels a hand on his shoulder, and turns around. 

Jaemin is looking at him with an expression Jeno’s never seen before. 

He seems uncomfortable, as though he could tell what Jeno was thinking. 

Neither acknowledges the sudden change in mood. They just kind of look at each other for a second, as though trying to convey thoughts without speaking.

They fail, inevitably. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Jaemin asks, and it’s shockingly serious, with real concern.

It means something. 

Jeno doesn’t answer, but grabs Jaemin’s hand and pulls him to the other side of the roof. 

“What is it?”

They look forward towards the rest of the city that lies behind the building. The lights blur together close to the horizon, but it never seems to end. 

“Jaemin.” 

“Hmm?” 

“You can’t see the beach anymore.” 

Jaemin glances away from the city for a second, looking at Jeno with an unreadable expression before turning back. 

“Huh. I guess not.” 

Jeno smiles. 

\-- ↻ --

“Okay, okay. Realistically, what’s there to do in a city at 1:00 AM?” 

“You aren’t actually searching this up, are you?” 

Jeno looks up from his phone. “Of course not, why would you think that?” 

Jaemin narrows his eyes. 

What Jeno is searching up has to do with more pressing matters. “Jaemin, that was illegal.” 

“What was illegal?” 

“Climbing up a fire escape is illegal. We could have gotten arrested. Not to mention how dangerous it is.” 

“Did anyone see us?” 

“Donghyuck, but I don’t think anyone else did.” 

Jaemin leans back in the driver’s seat, propping his feet up on the dashboard. “Okay, then we’re fine.”

They’d found their way back to the empty parking lot soon enough, though climbing down the fire escape had weirdly posed more of a challenge than going up.

“What do you mean, we’re fine? That’s literally trespassing!” 

“No one saw us!” 

“What if someone did?” 

“But they didn’t!” 

“Oh, Jesus.” Jeno, at a loss for words, copies Jaemin in putting his feet on top of the dashboard. “You’re going to get us killed.” 

“How many times do I have to say it? No one’s dying, alright?” 

“You drive like a street racer. Which is also illegal, by the way.” 

“That’s such a lie.” 

“Street racing is illegal, are you dumb?” 

“No, I know _that_. I do not drive like a street racer.” 

“You think speed limits are suggestions.” 

“Well--” Jaemin doesn’t have anything to say to that, and resorts to sputtering incoherently. 

Jeno grins smugly. “You know I’m right.”

Jaemin stays quiet, but looks over to Jeno. Well, more like stares at Jeno’s lips, but that’s not relevant.

His smile slowly fades. “What?” 

“Oh, nothing. You just look cute when you smile.” 

“You’ve called me cute, like, three times at this point.” 

Jaemin bites his lip to keep from smiling. “You’ve been counting?” 

_Damn it._

“No! God, no. I approximated, for your information.” 

“Good.” 

“Why good?” 

“Because it was four times.” 

\-- ↻ --

The roads are actually empty. Jeno considers it strange to see even a single car passing, and they’re on the damn _highway_.

For whatever reason, Jaemin had refused to let Jeno drive, probably because the poor kid had actually driven a car a total of two times in his 18 years of life. 

Still, Jeno was somewhat offended. 

Jaemin glances at him for a fraction of a second. “You don’t really want to go back, do you?” 

Jeno isn’t even surprised at this point. Of all the things Jaemin seems to be able to do, mind reading is probably a somewhat reasonable expectation. 

“Not particularly. How can you tell?” 

“I know these things, Jeno.” Jaemin taps his head, and Jeno rolls his eyes. 

“Okay, well, tell me something else then.” 

Jaemin doesn’t even blink. “You fucking hate the beach.” 

“I don’t _hate_ it--” 

“I’m right. I’m right and you know it.”

Jeno scoffs. “No, you’re not. I don’t hate the beach. I’m just tired of it.” 

“Well, that makes sense.” 

It’s silent for a moment, and then Jeno remembers something. “You know, you never really explained your proposition to me.” 

“I didn’t?” 

“No... You kind of just kidnapped me.” 

“Are we back on the kidnapping thing?” 

“Your words, not mine.”

Jaemin turns towards him, and Jeno feels obligated to keep his eyes on the road just in case. 

“I don’t plan to do much explaining. Wastes time, you know?” 

“So?” 

“So maybe you should meet me again tonight, and I’ll do some more non-explaining.” 

Again, the rational parts of Jeno’s mind don’t quite do their thing, so he ends up blushing like an idiot, hoping Jaemin won’t be able to see it in the dark. 

No such luck. 

“Those words didn’t come out right, did they?” 

Jeno shakes his head. 

“Non-sexual non-explaining.” Jaemin clarifies, and Jeno has to look away. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that, right?” 

“I’m still 17, so I fear sexual non-explaining would be slightly illegal.” 

“And since when do you care about legality?” 

_Oh. Oh no._

“I- I didn’t mean- oh, lord.” 

Jaemin doesn’t seem phased, and even smiles as he states, “I don’t care. I just know that you do.” 

“Alright, then. Thank you for your consideration.” Jeno replies slowly, still unable to make eye contact. 

“God, you get flustered so easily. Maybe I’ll make like Donghyuck and try to seduce you, just for fun.” 

“Please don’t.” Jeno chokes out. 

This is not at all the way he’d intended for this conversation to go.

“Ah, you’re right. I don’t need to try, do I?” 

_FCUK._

“Ha ha. Funny.” 

Jaemin isn’t laughing. 

_He isn’t laughing._

“Please say something before I spontaneously combust.” Jeno pleads. 

Jaemin pauses for longer than necessary. “Nah, I’m trying out your thinking thing.” He grins. “I don’t like it very much.” 

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that. You think just as much as I do.” Jeno replies, grateful for the change in topic. 

“And how do you know that?” 

“I just do.” He mocks, and Jaemin rolls his eyes. 

“Sure you do.” 

\-- ↻ --

For some reason, the journey back into town seems to take considerably less time than the one out of it. 

Obviously, there’s no change in the distance, but Jeno has observed a general trend. The less you want something to end, the shorter it feels. 

They pass the same steadily dimming neon signs a second time over before Jeno snaps out of it. 

“Oh, you can just leave me here--” He starts, adequately startling Jaemin, who’d probably grown accustomed to the comfortable silence.

He pulls over, almost onto the sidewalk before Jeno can stop him. 

Jaemin looks a little farther down the road. “Are you sure? I... I don’t really know where you live, so..” 

“It’s not that far.” 

It’s kind of far. 

“Are you sure?” Jaemin only repeats, and Jeno wonders why he refuses to let it go. 

“Yeah, really, it’s fine.” Jeno says slowly, watching as Jaemin’s expression reverts back to his usual... Shady admiration. 

Well, that was truly the best description of it that Jeno could come up with. 

“Why do you always look at me like that?” Jeno blurts, and Jaemin’s eyes actually glint. 

“Like what?” He asks innocently. 

“Like--”

Jeno stops. 

_Like what, Jeno?_

_Like you hung the stars in the sky?_

_Like he’s fallen in love at first sight, but keeps falling the same way every time he sees you, keeps falling again, and again, and--_

A record scratches somewhere in the back of Jeno’s mind, and the thoughts stutter to a stop. 

“Ah, forget it.”

“No, I’m curious now!” Jaemin giggles, and..

And... 

“No, I’m just seeing things, don’t worry--” 

“What kind of things?” 

He presses on, and on, and Jeno has to admire Jaemin’s perseverance while simultaneously cursing himself for ending up in this situation. 

He sighs, not bothering to give himself a second to organize his thoughts and instead settling on the first thing that comes to mind. “You look at me like I’m actually worth something. To you.” 

_Oh no._

Jaemin looks at him like he’s crazy, and Jeno’s sure he just fucked up.

Instead, he just hums for a second before meeting Jeno’s eyes. “And that’s weird... How?” 

“It’s not weird, I guess. It’s different.” 

“Different?” Jaemin tilts his head. “Well, Jeno Lee, you deserve it. You’re worth more than just something.” 

Jeno tenses up, but tries his best not to show it. 

He instantly regrets bringing it up.

“Someday you’ll meet someone, and you’ll be worth the whole world to them.” Jaemin looks serious again, but not upset in the least. Perhaps hopeful. 

_What are you hoping for?_

“How can you be sure?” 

“Well, you won’t know until you meet them. Maybe you already have, and they just haven’t said anything. Maybe they don’t know it either.” 

“Maybe.”

\-- ↻ -- 

Jeno knows just waltzing in the door and up the stairs to his apartment at 2:14 AM would be a little conspicuous. 

He warily eyes his bedroom window that’s on the opposite side of the building, with the branches of that one tree rattling against it. 

Jeno’s in no mood to climb up a tree, which leaves a total of one other option.

Sighing, he shifts his gaze to his only other window, a considerable way up, but--

_Fuck it._

Jeno curses Jaemin internally the whole time he climbs up the fire escape. 

\-- ↻ --

Apparently men have the capability to switch their minds off completely. 

Like, think about absolutely nothing. Just _jwoop_ , and no thoughts whatsoever.

Women apparently can’t do that-- which is pretty damn sad. 

Then again, someone has to do the thinking in the meanwhile. 

Jeno may or may not be a woman. 

Well, no. He’s male, sure, but finds himself akin to the fairer sex in that, no matter how hard he tries to find it, his mind does not seem to have an off switch. 

Jeno Lee + Every Existing Female against the world. 

Sounds like a TV show. 

_Pretty damn pathetic TV show. Pretty gay too._

“Conan Gray? Seriously? Wow, this sexual frustration thing is worse than I thought.” 

Jaemin is holding Jeno’s speaker and propping his elbow up on the display case. He’s backlit by the mid-morning sun, beaming down at Jeno. 

_He looks good like this_.

Jeno has a somewhat delayed reaction, snatching back the speaker (which is currently playing ‘Greek God’ at the adventurous volume of 20%) and hissing, “I’m not sexually frustrated.” 

Jaemin raises an eyebrow, and Jeno’s Spotify decides to shuffle to some Cigarettes After Sex song that he can’t recognize.

“Ah, right. You’re just depressed.” 

“Real classy of you to judge me by my taste in music.” 

“Actually, you can tell a lot about someone based on their taste in music.” Jaemin suddenly gestures for Jeno to give him his phone, and Jeno freezes. 

Jaemin rolls his eyes and snatches the phone, typing something. 

“I don’t have Spotify Premium.” Jeno interjects, silenced as Jaemin flips him off. 

“You’re really going to make me go through YouTube like some peasant, huh.” 

“Suffer.” 

The music cuts off abruptly, and Jeno just stares as it starts up with an unnecessarily long delay. He leans over to look at his phone. 

“Super--”

Jaemin closes out of the app just to spite him, and Jeno squints. 

“Hey, you changed my wallpaper!”

“So I did.” 

It’s a selfie of (you guessed it) Jaemin, complete with his smirk and the row of app folders at the top of the screen seemingly floating around his head like a halo. 

“I hate you.” 

Jaemin plays the song again, chucking Jeno’s phone back at him and walking away before Jeno can get another word in. 

“You love me!” He calls back, and Jeno can’t do anything but shake his head as Jaemin disappears into the crowd again, something called ‘Superposition’ serving as background music. 

\-- ↻ --

**12:47 PM**

**♡** **~jaemin~** **♡**

hi :D

**Jeno Lee**

HOW DID YOU DO THAT YOU HAD MY PHONE FOR FIVE SECONDS

**♡** **~jaemin~** **♡**

im magical bby

**Jeno Lee**

No

Also what even is this song

**♡** **~jaemin~** **♡**

idk figure it out sis 

**_read_ **

o ur dumb dumb my apologies

**Jeno Lee**

Fuck you 

Wait

I just searched up the lyrics and I think my mind isn’t processing them right 

WAIT

JAEMIn 

JAEMIN COME BACK 

**_read_ **

\-- ↻ --

Jeno only seems to perceive the day in little fragments at this point. 

Only key bits and pieces are stored in his memory, the others casted away so that every second spent staring onto the beach feels new. 

He’s trying to find a constant, but failing. Moments play in his head like a movie. 

The sound of skateboard wheels spinning across the boardwalk, but this time it’s a short girl with wavy hair that flies behind her. 

Spotify playing a goddamned suggested track (he really should invest in Premium) that Jeno actually ends up enjoying, simply because he has absolutely no idea what the singer is saying but they sound like an angel. 

Jeno wishes for nightfall to come sooner, if only to see Jaemin by the light of the moon again. 

He knows the following days will feel as though they’re repeated over and over, but the only thing that changes is Jaemin. 

How much he sees him, when he sees him…

Damn Jeno and his foresight.

\-- ↻ --

“Alright, what I can gather from your non-explaining is that we’re going to basically be playing some fucked up version of Never Have I Ever until the end of summer.” 

“Sure.” 

Jaemin, for some reason, has chosen to lie flat on his back in the sand. Jeno questions him, as per usual. 

“What does that even mean? Am I right or wrong?” 

“Both.”

The moon has cast its usual strip of light onto the ocean, and Jeno just stares blankly at it to avoid Jaemin’s eyes.

He doesn’t know why. 

“Can you say something longer than one syllable, maybe? You’re freaking me out.” 

Jaemin looks him in the eyes for a long second. “Jeno, do you hate your life?” 

“Oh, Jesus.” Jeno exhales in response, flopping down in the sand beside Jaemin and following his gaze up to the stars. “Are you alright?” 

“Me? Yeah! I’m just asking.” 

“Why?” 

“Am I not allowed to be curious?” A smile is in Jaemin’s voice, but not on his face. 

It’s disarming. 

“I don’t _hate_ my life. It’s pretty good, as lives go.”

“But?” He prompts. 

Jeno sighs. “It’s just boring. Which is a dumb thing to say.” 

“It’s fine to be bored, Jeno.” 

A moment of silence passes, and Jeno is growing more and more uncomfortable. “Why do I feel like you asked that as background information?” 

“Sorry?” 

“Foreshadowing. Whatever it’s called.”

“I don’t understand.” 

“You understand fine. Get on with it.” 

Jaemin purses his lips. “Get on with what?” 

Jeno concedes, sighing loudly and dramatically turning away-- which proves somewhat difficult on the coarse sand. 

Perhaps Jaemin takes pity on him, because not even a minute later, he prods Jeno’s shoulder so that he’ll look back around. 

Jeno doesn’t understand why that’s necessary. He’s sure he’ll probably be able to process whatever Jaemin was to say even better without the added distraction of having to look at his face. 

_UGhghjiklkmn what was that._

_WHat was that thought._

_No no no just pretend like it didn’t happen and you’ll forget--_

“Well?” Jeno asks, feigning annoyance. 

He has to admit, he does a better job than Jaemin. 

_Jaemin_ , with a smile spreading across his face, not saying a word.

_Shut the fuck up._

_How can someone be so loud without saying anything?_

“How would you like to be me?” 

\-- ↻ --

Jeno dies for a second. 

“I didn’t phrase that right.” 

“Yeah, no, I can tell.” 

Jaemin rolls his eyes. “Well, I phrased it right but it didn’t make much sense, did it?” 

Jeno shakes his head. 

“I don’t know how to explain this without sounding completely fucking insane.” 

“You do that anyways.” 

Jaemin fake-laughs, and it makes Jeno real-laugh. 

“Do you mean we’re just gonna, like, switch places?” Jeno tries. 

“Sure. For a day.” 

Jeno considers this for a few seconds before realizing how weird it is. “If you think I’m about to trade places with a dude who isn’t really even my friend--” 

He cuts himself off.

_Oh. Huh._

To say the outburst gives Jeno pause is something of an understatement. 

_What are we?_

Jaemin doesn’t seem mad, just confused. “Hon, we just drove to a different state together. I think that makes us friends.” 

“I mean, yeah, but we’ve only met like... Five times.” 

“Okay, and?” 

When Jeno doesn’t answer, Jaemin sighs like he’s trying to explain something to a child. Jeno doesn’t really mind. 

“It’s really not about how much time we spend together. It’s about the quality of said time, my good sir.” 

“That made far too much sense for you to have said it.” 

“Oh, shut up. You’re going around acting like you actually said a damn word before we met.” 

“Oof. Low blow.” 

“You deserved it.” 

The conversation hits a natural low point, and both of them just look dumbly at each other for a short while. 

“Alright.” Jeno sighs. “Now that we’ve established that we’re friends, how’s this going to work?” 

Jaemin’s face lights up.

\-- ↻ --

And that, kids, is how Jeno finds himself on Renjun Huang’s doorstep at 9:00 AM the next day. 

(“I’m not going to tell him!” Jaemin had said, unnecessarily loud. “That way, you get the full experience.” 

“Does the full experience involve getting brutally murdered?” 

“No, but there’s some yelling.” 

Jeno sighed. “Really, Jaemin? You have to tell him! He’ll call 911 on me!”

“Exactly!” Jaemin grinned, clapping like a seal just to annoy Jeno. 

“You’re ridiculous. I am not doing this.”

“Oh, come on, Jeno. Wouldn’t you like a change of scenery, even if it’s just for a day?” 

And then Jaemin did his damn puppy eyes and who was Jeno to say no?)

In hindsight, the puppy eyes were unfair. How was Jeno expected to focus, let alone make a conscious decision? 

Jeno rolls his eyes and hopes his clear message of “fuck you” is transmitted to Jaemin, who’s no doubt driving himself crazy already, sitting alone in that damn ice cream shack. 

(“Okay, but why would you voluntarily subject yourself to my job?” 

“You do it.”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with this.” 

“Are you implying that I’m not capable of being quiet for 12 hours?” 

“I don’t think you can even stay quiet for 12 minutes.”) 

From the outside, Renjun’s house is a pretty small, white single-story. It’s still larger than any house an 18 year old should be able to own by themselves. 

Child prodigy college junior or not. 

Jeno knocks hesitantly, and not even a minute later, the door is opened to show a--

Well, a short Asian kid. There’s no marker written across his forehead reading ‘genius’ or anything. He looks pretty normal. 

Jeno isn’t sure what he was expecting. 

He’s wearing pajama pants and a sweatshirt with the 3RACHA logo on it. 

Taste. 

Jeno supposes he should stop staring now and say something, for the guy seems visibly frazzled and the look in his eyes is no less terrifying than Jaemin’s description. 

(“Don’t freak out,” he’d said, “He’s like that with everyone.”

“I’m starting to regret agreeing to this.” Jeno groaned.)

“Are you Renjun Huang?” Jeno asks, like a blithering fucking idiot. 

The guy raises his eyebrows as if to say ‘seriously?’, and Jeno thinks, yeah, he pretty much deserves that. 

“Did you kidnap Jaemin, or something?” He asks in response, panic evident in his voice even as his face remains eerily calm. 

Jeno regrets everything. “No, sir, I did not.” 

He can’t help but think that Renjun’s wording is more than a little ironic. 

“‘Sir.’” He echoes disbelievingly. “Ugh, okay. I need to stop taking in castaways at some point.” Renjun runs a hand through his (Purple? Blue? Gray? White? What color _is_ that?) hair and gestures for Jeno to come in.

_Well, that was surprisingly easy._

_Explaining is probably going to be harder._

The inside of Renjun’s house poses a stark contrast to the outside. 

While the exterior was plain, and quiet, and neat, the first thing Jeno notices when he steps inside is someone screaming. 

There’s no words, just screaming. A solid, unwavering “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”. 

_Oh, Jaemin. What have you gotten me into?_

Renjun seems to notice this, and stops short. “Wait here, please.” He says, placing his hands on Jeno’s shoulders as if to ground him before disappearing into the open door that Jeno can only assume leads to the kitchen. 

What he doesn’t expect is to hear Renjun screaming back with just as much fervor. 

“CHENLE, THIS WAS COOL THE FIRST SEVEN TIMES BUT NOW IT’S JUST FUCKING ANNOYING. PLEASE STOP.”

The screaming stops, unsurprisingly. Renjun emerges from the kitchen, dragging a boy with flaming orange hair behind him by the wrist. 

Jeno quickly recognizes him as the screeching kid from the boardwalk. 

The kid-- well, Chenle-- gives Jeno a nod and an unnecessarily sweet smile. 

And then someone else starts screaming, and Jeno glances around the rest of the house-- or at least, what he can see from his place in the foyer. 

“RENJUN, MARK’S ON THE PHONE!” A familiar, deep voice calls from the hallway that’s beyond Jeno’s line of vision. 

There’s a girl trying to climb through the window in the living room directly in front of him, and Jeno wonders if he should say something. 

Renjun deposits Chenle next to Jeno near the door before rushing away. 

“RENJUN!” 

“HOLD ON, HOLD ON, I’M COMING! JESUS!”

“HE SAYS IT’S URGENT!” 

“JUST TALK TO HIM FOR A SECOND!” Renjun appears to have noticed the girl, who’s almost completely managed to fit herself through the small window. 

“WHAT DO I SAY?” The voice calls from the hall again. 

“I DON’T KNOW? MARK LOVES YOU, JISUNG, JUST-- FIGURE IT OUT!” 

Renjun emerges from the hallway and promptly pushes the girl right back out the window. 

Jeno’s eyes go wide, and he reflexively looks at Chenle, who doesn’t seem phased in the slightest.

If anything, Chenle even looks slightly amused. 

The girl falls the short distance, and lands on the grass with a loud “EUGH” and an exclamation of “RENJUN HUANG, YOU’RE A CUNT.” She peeks back into the house. 

“Yeri, Irene will have my head. Please go home.” Renjun says softly, but Yeri only responds by giving him the finger and promptly disappearing. 

At this point, Renjun closes the window, sprints back down the hallways, and finds his way back to the foyer with a cell phone tucked under his cheek. 

“No, Mark, I don’t care! I know he’s-- I know-- I get it! I heard you! You’re almost 19, you can do this! He’s-- yes-- YES! YEAH, DO THAT! OKAY? YES! Wait-- no. Stop, stop. It’s-- He-- I’m aware, Mark. Oh-- I don’t care about that! Just-- yeah. Yeah. Ok. I’m hanging up on you now. No, I mean-- Shut- Ah, c’mon. Bye, Mark.” 

With that, Renjun tosses the phone back to Skateboard Kid (Jisung, Jeno reminds himself), who has just now made his way into the living room. 

“Alright, now that that’s taken care of, come inside!” 

Chenle takes one look at the expression on Jeno’s face and bursts out laughing. 

\-- ↻ --

(“You have to talk to people, Jeno. I know it’s hard for you, but please. For my sake-- you can’t just go about your life without saying a single word to anyone.”

“I talk to you, what more do you want?” 

“That’s different.”

“How?” 

“It just is. Now, seriously, listen to me here...”)

“Switched... lives?” Chenle asks incredulously, tearing open a box of strawberry Pocky. 

Jisung scrunches up his face. “Don’t say it all dramatic like that. Freaks me out.” 

Chenle scoffs. 

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to spook Jisungie over here.” Renjun states, rolling his eyes despite his surprisingly serious tone. 

They’re in the miniscule excuse for a living room, Jeno sitting somewhat uncomfortably on the couch as Chenle sits in an armchair facing Renjun, who’s cross-legged on the coffee table. Jisung is constantly pacing around, and it’s somewhat concerning.

Actually, Jeno’s still not quite sure who Chenle is, or why Jisung is here at all-- but it’s not really his place. 

In the 15-ish minutes that Jeno has been there, he’s also quickly learned that Renjun, despite being quite small and quite intimidating, likes disguising displays of affection as sarcasm. 

That’s Jeno’s first observation. Observation #1, if Jeno was actually sad enough to begin formatting the thoughts inside his brain to make up for his lack of ways to record it. 

Which he, undeniably, is sad enough to do.

_Observation #1 (cont.): It’s a questionable trait, sure, but there’s something admirable about it. At least he doesn’t have to hide anything for fear of what others think._

Maybe Jeno’s just overanalyzing. 

That’s probably it.

_Imagine what Renjun would think if he learned we almost ran Jisung over with a car._

“So... Where’s Jaemin now?” Chenle starts again, swinging his legs over the side of an armchair to face Jeno better. 

“I work on the boardwalk, so he’s probably there.” Jeno states quietly. 

_Hopefully._

_Boy needs adult supervision._

_Bro, stop worrying._

A ringtone sounds, one of the annoying default Apple ones.

Renjun picks it up off the table and eyes the caller ID warily. “Mark. Again.” 

“He has anxiety, cut him some slack.” Jisung mutters as Renjun chucks the phone at Chenle.

Chenle throws it like it’s a hot potato. “Nope.”

Jisung catches it, and seems to consider picking up before tossing it to Jeno. 

He just stares at it for a second. Then he panics and hands it back to Chenle.

_Really?_

With an exaggerated sigh, Chenle slides down out of his chair and disappears into the hallway. 

“Please don’t make him cry.” Renjun calls behind him. 

“That was one time!” Comes a speedy, shrill reply. 

And then there’s nothing left to do for the three of them except to stare awkwardly at each other. 

Jeno has questions, but doesn’t ask for fear of being rude. 

(“Please don’t offend him. Renjun’s stalking skills are unparalleled. It’ll take him a grand total of five seconds to figure out where you live, all your family members’ names, and what you had for breakfast last Friday.”

The fact didn’t quite sit well with Jeno, but he had to be confident in the fact that he wouldn’t wrong Renjun. Even unintentionally. 

“What could I possibly do?” He’d asked Jaemin, who only shrugged in reply. “Really? You doubt me that much?” 

“I don’t know what you’ll end up doing. I don’t know you all that well, after all.” Jaemin had said. 

What Jeno didn’t say was that sometimes, it felt like Jaemin knew him better than he knew himself.)

Renjun is looking at Jeno like he’s trying to figure him out, all squinty and analytical. 

It’s either that or he’s trying to figure out the cleanest way to murder him. 

“So!” Jisung attempts, clapping his hands together as his eyes travel between the two boys in front of him. “Jeno!”

Until that point, Jeno had been trying his darndest to not let Jisung look at him for too long, for fear of being recognized from the car incident.

That felt so much longer ago than just a few nights. 

Jeno glances over to Jisung, who’s now gritting his teeth as though looking upon something quite disgraceful. 

_Observation #2: Jisung’s facial expressions are insane. The boy can freeze with the same look on his face for probably hours. No blinking, no breathing-- when Jisung gets scared, he goes full statue. It’s just as amusing as it is terrifying._

“Yes?” Jeno replies, equally mortified. 

Renjun has not blinked. 

Not even once.

“How do you know Jaemin?”

Jisung meant it as an innocent question, just to make conversation, but if Renjun’s expression serves as any indication, he’s just driven them both directly into a ditch.

Jeno forgets how to speak. 

Right. 

The thick silence is broken by a wail from down the hall-- one that could only have come from Chenle. 

“Lee Minhyung, you are the most ignorant person on the surface of this goddamn planet. No, I-- Shut up!” 

Jeno can’t tell if he’s laughing or crying, and by the looks of it, neither can Jisung. The boy takes it as his cue to duck out of the pseudo-conversation and disappear down the hall.

“And there were two.” Renjun quips, but still doesn’t fucking blink. 

(“Don’t worry too much. This is all for fun, remember?”

“Right. Fun.”) 

“Alright, come on. Let’s go.” Renjun stands suddenly, hovering expectantly over Jeno.

“Where are we going?” 

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

And that’s how Jeno gets kidnapped for the second time. 

\-- ↻ --

“You really care about him, don’t you?” Jeno finds himself blurting (quite unintelligently, if he does say so himself) after they’ve driven for a short distance in silence. 

Renjun lives farther away from the beach than Jeno would have expected, right on the border of the town. 

While that does, to some extent, explain why Jeno has never seen or interacted with any of Jaemin’s friends, it simultaneously gives Jeno a few hundred more questions. 

There’s about 30 minutes’ worth of driving between there and the boardwalk-- why would Jaemin willingly travel that far for seemingly no reason? 

Every day? 

Renjun turns down the radio volume to hear Jeno better. He’s playing something low and soft with lyrics in French for some reason, but Jeno supposes he can do whatever the hell he pleases while in his own car (which, not that he should care, is decidedly more sensible than Jaemin’s convertible).

_Stop thinking about him._

_Nope._

“I care about who?” Renjun asks nonchalantly, and Jeno’s forced to revert back to his previous train of thought. 

“Jaemin.”  


At that, Renjun casts Jeno a somewhat confused look. He seems offended at the insinuation. “What makes you say that?” 

“I..” Jeno blanks. Nice. “I don’t really know.” He wishes for a change in subject, and somehow, Renjun complies. 

In the worst possible way. 

“You care about him too.” He says shortly, not even as a question, not as a reply. “You don’t talk that much, do you?” Renjun furrows his brow, but doesn’t turn to look at Jeno. 

He just shakes his head. 

“Huh.” 

It’s awkward, to say the least. Jeno had gone into this situation with the assumption that maybe he’d learn something new about Jaemin, but here he was. A little scared for his life, but mostly just uncomfortable.

Renjun makes a turn, and the sleeve of his sweatshirt slides slightly down his forearm to show a long, thin mark. A slender cut, healed and faded by time. And the starting of another.

Jeno looks slowly between the scar and the boy’s face.

Everything is clear, all of a sudden. 

And as for Renjun, he’s oblivious.

Oblivious to the fact that the roles have reversed, that, now, Jeno’s trying to read him, searching for something-- _anything_ that will tell him that things aren’t the way he thinks they are. 

Oblivious to his best friend knowing all that he has to hide. 

Oblivious to all of his most well-kept secrets being, well, _out there_ , shared on a cloudy night between the person he trusted most and a complete stranger. 

_He looks calm._

_For how long will that last?_

Jeno suddenly feels like he knows way too much. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Renjun asks suddenly, glancing at Jeno out of the corner of his eye. 

Jeno freezes, but it’s too late. Of course it is.

Renjun follows his gaze to his own arm and hurriedly pulls the sleeve back up without letting go of the steering wheel.

“You didn’t see anything.” He mutters detachedly. 

“I didn’t see anything.” Jeno repeats. 

_I don’t think I really needed to._

\-- ↻ --

“Alright, go get him.” 

“Me?!” 

“I’m fucking wearing pajamas. He’s going to die out there with nothing to do, you know him!” 

“Do I,” Jeno mutters, stepping out of the car. “Do I really?” 

Renjun leans over and pulls the door closed. “Yes!” He mouths through the window. 

Technically, he wasn’t supposed to hear that, but no harm done.

_Jaemin’s going to be pissed off. Maybe._

_Unless this whole ordeal was just an excuse to get me away from my job._

_Which, well, I wouldn’t blame him._

Jeno walks slowly down the boardwalk. It’s weird to be on this side, staring through the crowd to his own little shop. 

His little shop, with Jaemin sitting on the wobbly folding chair and looking forward through the swarms of people. 

There’s something in the way he looks out before him. 

Searching. 

Searching for what? 

Jeno wonders for a second of that’s what he looks like every day. Sitting there, looking so obviously like he’d rather be somewhere else. 

But still calm. Unbothered, as if the only things that trouble him are the contents of his mind. 

_Huh._

Jaemin sees him, and Jeno knows that because the change is evident in his eyes. 

He no longer looks to be searching, and the earth-shattering grin he sports only reinforces that. 

Jeno walks across the boardwalk horizontally, cutting straight through everyone else.

And when he reaches Jaemin, all he can do is smile and let the world go crescent shaped. 

“Well, you found me.” 

\-- ↻ --

“Ugh, Renjun, you’re such a buzzkill!” Jaemin flails dramatically, having been banished to the backseat. 

Renjun looks at him in the rearview mirror. “Because you were so excited about sitting in a damn shack for 12 hours. No offense, Jeno.” 

“None taken.” 

Jaemin groans. “Do you know the amount of blackmail material I have on you?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” 

“I don’t know, I just felt like bringing it up.”

Jeno cracks a smile at that. 

“Maybe I’ll send it to that kid from your psych class.” Jaemin threatens, but he’s anything but effective. 

“You don’t even know their name. Or gender.” Renjun sighs, turning in the opposite direction to their house. 

“Uh, Renjun?” Jeno asks, “Where are we going?” 

“Coffee.” He replies in a monotone, and Jeno wonders for a second why he’d be ok with going to a coffee shop in pajamas but not the boardwalk. “Jaemin, you have no blackmail material on me whatsoever.” 

“You don’t know that.” Jaemin shoots back with a lazy smile, and it’s _cute_. 

_nOoOooOooOoOoo._

Jaemin abruptly reaches forward to play with Jeno’s hair, and Jeno jumps a foot in the air and hits his head on the roof of the car. 

Renjun bursts out laughing. “Jesus _Christ_ , you guys are dysfunctional.”

“You’ve only seen us interact once.” Jeno points out, and then promptly shrinks back down in the passenger seat. 

“You call us dysfunctional but literally house every burned-out Asian kid within a 50 mile radius.” Jaemin adds. 

Renjun sets his mouth in a thin line. “It’s not my fault I’m the only “burned-out Asian kid” with my own house.” 

“Yeah, uh, how did that happen?” Jeno asks before he can stop himself. 

_Ah, shiet._

“Well, that’s quite a story.” Jaemin giggles before Renjun can answer. “So, here’s the thing. Renjun’s parents--”

“They’re dead.” Renjun interrupts. 

“They’re not dead.” Jaemin narrows his eyes but continues with no venom in his words. “He just pretends like they are.”

“They’re dead to me, anyways. Moving on.” 

“Yes, moving on. So then Renjun moved in with a cousin, and... Things happened, and now he just has his own house.” 

Judging by how Renjun stiffened slightly at the “things happened” bit, Jeno decides not to pry any further. 

“Yes, it’s quite a story. Skipped a grade or two somewhere in there. Painted some tables.” Renjun adds casually.

Jeno squints. “That was you?”

“Hmm?”

“With the tables?” 

“Yes, sir. Thought that was a good idea at the time. Then, well, ‘things happened.’”

“Huh.” 

“Huh indeed.” Jaemin smiles tentatively, looking between Jeno and Renjun. 

\-- ↻ --

“Alright, Jeno, do you want anything?”

Renjun’s already halfway out the car, and Jaemin looks at him with a face of betrayal. 

He’s only met with an eyeroll and a promise to get whatever Renjun calls “goddamn battery acid”. 

Jeno smiles as Renjun walks away and Jaemin (somehow, don’t ask Jeno) manages to crawl into the driver’s seat. 

“Do you think Renjun would notice if we stole his car?” 

“You. _You_ stole his car. Not we. And yes, he’d notice.” Jeno blinks. “What, do you want to end up in jail?” 

Jaemin shrugs. “Don’t care much either way. Renjun would probably murder me first.” 

“I doubt he’d actually kill anyone.” 

“Hmm.” Jaemin raises an eyebrow. “You just met him and already think that. What, did he make a particularly good first impression?” 

Jeno thinks back to their first meeting not long ago, the utterly unimpressed expression on Renjun’s face. “No, not really.” 

“What is it then? You like him?” Jaemin scrunches up his face. 

Jeno doesn’t even consider it, not for a second. “What?! No! God, Jaemin! I just met him!” 

“I’m not crazy for asking that.” He points out. “Renjun’s an attractive kid.” 

“Huh. Do _you_ like him then?” Jeno asks with a smirk. 

_Ew, a smirk._

“Fuck-- No! Jesus! Rat-lookin’ ass.” 

“You just called him attractive.” 

“I meant _potentially_ attractive to someone like _you_.”

“Someone like me?” 

Jaemin rolls his eyes. “Look, man, I don’t know your type. All I know is that he doesn’t fit mine.” 

“And what is yours?” 

To Jeno, Jaemin seems like the kind of person to have a set of ultra-specific parameters for that sort of thing. 

Not that he’s given it much thought. 

“Well,” Jaemin looks to be seriously thinking about it, until a slow smile spreads over his face. “Perhaps someone with dark hair. Around 5’9”. 5’10”. Quiet. A little stupid, but annoyingly rational.” 

“That is awfully specific.” Jeno remarks offhandedly. 

The qualities themselves don’t actually process in his mind.

Jaemin leans back worryingly far in the driver’s seat. “Maybe, maybe. But I’m sure there’s at least one sap out there willing to put up with me.” 

“Trust me, there are many ‘saps’ who’d be more than happy to end up with a guy like you.” Jeno says. 

It’s supposed to be reassuring, but comes off a little more flirtatious than Jeno would have liked. 

He doesn’t cringe, not outwardly.

Jaemin blinks. “Well, at least I can be sure that there are people out there who fit all those qualities. Whether or not they’ll like me is another issue. Anyways.” He claps, signifying an end to the conversation. “Moving on.” 

_Imagine looking like that and still doubting yourself._

_Looking like what?_

_Oh, here we go._

“You think too little of yourself.” 

_Maybe it would have been better if you had just, like, never talked. At all._

_Shut up._

_No you._

_You’re literally one person. What the hell._

“Is that so?” Jaemin asks. “Tell me then, what do you think of me?” 

He leans in with a soft smile, and Jeno can’t meet his eyes. Damn it.

Maybe one of these days Jeno should sit down and try to properly analyze what it is that goes down in his mind whenever Jaemin does anything particularly Jaemin-esque. 

Or maybe thinking about it too long isn’t a good idea. 

Still, that doesn’t exactly change that Jaemin’s still an inch away from him and ready to listen to whatever bullshit Jeno’s going to undoubtedly start spouting. 

Jeno settles on a concise, “You’re a dick, Jaemin Na.” 

Jaemin grins cheekily, and Jeno can’t help but lean over and smack him across the head. 

\-- ↻ --

“Fuckin’ smiling all the time--” 

“Why, you don’t like my smile? Is it not adorable?” 

“You look like the lizard from Frozen.”

“It’s a cute lizard!”

The car door opens on the driver’s side. “You do look like that lizard, though. Maybe you should dye your hair blue next.” Renjun peeks inside, a drink in each hand. He gives Jaemin the one that looks almost black, and definitely contains an unhealthy amount of caffiene. “Now, are you two done being gross? Jaemin, get out. I’m not letting you drive my car.” 

“Ugh, fine. We weren’t being gross, for the record.” Jaemin slides out of the seat and opens the door to the back of the car.

Renjun glances between them skeptically before closing the door behind him. 

Jeno glances at the cup in Jaemin’s hand. “What the fuck is that?” 

“Iced americano, no water, no sugar. 8 shots of espresso.” Renjun answers for him. “Most days, he ends up drinking eight of these. Simple math, around 64 shots of espresso a day.” 

“Jesus Christ.” Jeno mutters as Jaemin innocently takes a sip, eyes slowly traveling between the two boys in front of him. “How are you not dead?” 

“Oh, the gods love me.” Jaemin states matter-of-factly. 

\-- ↻ --

The three of them return to Renjun’s place to hear bits and pieces of a most peculiar, heated conversation. 

“I mean, I’m not blind, but what if they don’t want any--”

“I’m not saying we do anything drastic, I just... We’ve gotta intervene, Jisung!” 

“Intervene in what?” Renjun cuts Chenle off, and the younger boy looks up like he’s just seen his life flash before his eyes. 

Jisung shrinks down until he’s one with the couch. 

“Yeah, Chenle, intervene in what?” Jaemin echoes, watching Chenle go an unhealthy shade of red. 

“Oh, nothing. Psshh, yeah. Nothing.” 

Looking into the open door of the kitchen, Jeno notices a cupboard door swinging open of its own accord. “Uh, Renjun.” 

Yet another small Asian boy slides calmly out of the cupboard, leaping smoothly to the ground. 

“Jesus Christ, Yangyang. How long have you been there?”

The boy in question, Yangyang, simply shakes his head (quite like a dog) so that his caramel bangs will fan out across his forehead. “Probably not more than, like, an hour.” 

Renjun looks a little faint. “And no one noticed?” 

“You could just have walked in through the door, you know.” Jaemin laughs. 

“Yeah, but I don’t get the, like, looks of surprise. No fun in that.” 

Yangyang has an accent that Jeno can’t quite recognize, and when he says “like” it sounds more like “liek”. 

“Yangyang’s here?” Chenle shrieks, Naruto running into the kitchen as Jisung tiredly flops onto his back on the couch. 

“How much of that did you hear?” Jisung asks, and Yangyang grins widely. 

He has kind of a psychopathic smile. Interesting. 

“Oh, just all of it.” 

“You aren’t going to say anything.” Chenle nods, looking at Yangyang with wide eyes. 

The kid just keeps grinning. “I’m not? Damn, that ruins the fun.” 

“What... Fun?” Jeno asks slowly, and all eyes in the room go to him. 

_Well, shit._

“Have we found another?” Yangyang asks, and Renjun scoffs loudly. 

“Yangyang, get out. Please. I hate you.” 

“You do? Wow, that hurts just as much as it did when you said it first, like, 3 years ago. And every time you said it after that. An average of 56 times per month.” He clutches at his heart like he’s just been stabbed, and Jeno can tell that he is one of those people you either hate or love. 

There’s no in between. 

Chenle laughs. Jisung has not moved from the living room, even though the party seems to have traveled into the kitchen. 

“Why are you laughing?” Yangyang says brightly, looking to Chenle, who abruptly shuts up. “I’m about to expose your bitchass.” 

“Please don’t.” Jisung calls. 

Yangyang pays him no mind, leaning back against the counter. “See, our two youngest are scheming. Which, if you ask me, is not at all good. In this group, a scheme never works out unless I’m involved.” 

Chenle tries to clap a hand over his mouth. Yangyang licks it and Chenle screams. 

Jisung sighs loudly. 

_Observation #3: Chenle loves Yangyang. Jisung and Renjun hate him. Jaemin..._

Out of the corner of his eye, Jeno glances towards Jaemin. He seems to be enjoying this immensely. 

Of course he is. Jeno rolls his eyes. 

_Observation #3 (cont.): Jaemin loves Yangyang._

“Said scheme is simple enough. A little unambitious, if you ask me.” Yangyang smirks. 

“Well, get on with it then! We can’t wait forever!” Jaemin is doing his little jumping-up-and-down-but-not-really thing again. 

It’s adorable. 

“Yes, yes we can.” Jisung calls from the couch, but takes no action to stop Yangyang. 

In fact, he seems to act as though getting within a certain distance of the smaller boy will result in an allergic reaction or something. 

“Simply put, the children are trying to set two idiots... Who will remain unnamed... Up.” 

“Oh.” Jaemin exhales. “Well, that was anticlimactic.” 

“Not if you know who the aforementioned idiots are.” Renjun points out. “Wait, why am I encouraging this? I shouldn’t be encouraging this.” 

“There’s no way around it.” Jisung groans. “We’re completely and totally fucked.” 

“Don’t swear.” Jaemin and Renjun chorus, and Jisung looks incredulous. 

Chenle, who was surprisingly quiet throughout the whole ordeal, speaks up suddenly. In Mandarin. For added fun. 

With Jeno’s third-grade level knowledge of the language, he can decipher, “Liu Yangyang, I’ll steal your”. What is being stolen is unclear. 

Renjun chokes back laughter. 

“You’re really testing me right now, huh.” Yangyang shakes his head. “I suppose it’s my fault for moving to Germany for 7 years.” 

_Well, that solves the accent._

“I’m sorry-- Chenle, what is it that you plan to do with Yangyang’s tibias?” Renjun asks slowly.

“Sell them on the dark web, what else?” At Renjun’s expression, Chenle adds, “What, did you expect me to bake them into a pie or something?”

“Please don’t bake my bones into a pie. Or sell them on the internet. I need them.” Yangyang states feebly. 

“Great, so don’t expose me! Now that that’s cleared up...” 

\-- ↻ --

The day is spent doing (very coming-of-age-movie-esque) Asian teenager things. 

Yeri climbs in through the window again, and Renjun lets her stick around and complain about her life for a while before he promptly shoos her away again with lots of variations of the same statements. 

“Yerim Kim, your mothers will personally execute me.” 

Yeri does not seem concerned in the least about whether or not Renjun is, in fact, killed.

But she does get pushed through the window again, so she really doesn’t get much of a say. 

Jeno just watches quietly as more chaos ensues. 

These people seem to be in another world, far away from Jeno’s.

Their world is loud and vibrant and involves a lot of screaming and laughing and almost burning the house down. 

Jeno feels the least bit disconnected. 

For some reason, Jaemin seems more inclined to text him than personally talking to him.

That doesn’t help Jeno much. 

**6:39 PM**

**♡** **~jaemin~** **♡**

not @ chenji being shady mf’s 

**Jeno Lee**

Stfu

Wait 

Why are you still thinking abt that it was like 5 hours ago 

**♡** **~jaemin~** **♡**

you’re not even the least bit curious?

**Jeno Lee**

Sir why don’t you speak to me like an actual human being

**♡** **~jaemin~** **♡**

in front of these hoes? ha ha

funny

**Jeno Lee**

Arent they like your friends though

You fucking live with them

**♡** **~jaemin~** **♡**

yes but that dont mean shit 

they scary scary 

**Jeno Lee**

You’re scary scary 

**♡** **~jaemin~** **♡**

is that so

wtf am i do you think im gonna do to you

**Jeno Lee**

It’s not a matter of doing stuff 

**♡** **~jaemin~** **♡**

then why am i scary you fool

**Jeno Lee**

Idk you just are 

**♡** **~jaemin~** **♡**

fucker

**_read_ **

They’re interrupted by a sharp inhalation from Renjun.

“Jisung Park, you are not allowed to step foot in my kitchen for any purpose whatsoever. I thought we already talked about this--”

“But I haven’t done anything all day!”

“And that’s my fault... How?” 

“Just let him do something. Make a microwave dinner. He’ll feel useful.” Chenle reasons. 

Jisung nods. 

“Lord, Chenle, you’re willing to let your boyfriend do whatever he’d like at the expense of my kitchen? My goddamn property?” 

“Jisung isn’t allowed to have a boyfriend.” Jaemin interjects helpfully. “Not until he’s 15.” 

“I’m 16, _hyung_.” 

“Wh-- that doesn’t make sense.” Jaemin pauses, counting on his fingers. 

Jeno doesn’t laugh. If he does, he doesn’t. 

“Either way, you’re not allowed to have a boyfriend.” Jaemin gives up. 

Jisung blinks. “Uh... Hate to break it to you, but... I’m not into guys.”

Jeno sees Chenle deflate somewhat out of the corner of his eye. 

Yangyang pats Chenle on the back. “There, there, bro. We'll start a club.” 

Renjun turns around and screams into a wall. 

\-- ↻ --

They end up at a McDonald’s. 

Weirdly enough, the only McDonald’s in the area is off the highway, a good 40 miles away from Renjun’s house.

Why did they travel this far for shitty fries and mystery meat, you ask?

Jeno doesn’t know the answer. 

He’s been focused on other things. 

_Observation #4: The Love Cycle._

_Let’s preface this one by reminding yourself that you’re not a stalker. You’re curious, as people are._

Jeno looks around the table. On the surface, they’re loud, that’s for sure. The poor girl at the counter looks over at them tiredly, obviously frustrated but too nice to say anything. 

Beyond the undeniable volume and collective mass of brightly colored hair, the boys are quite obviously going through it.

Jeno had wondered for a short while why they seemed so weird and yet so comfortable around each other.

And then it clicked. 

Holy hell, they’re one big gay mess, he’d thought.

_Jisung: Straight. That’s all we know._

_Chenle:_

Jeno glances involuntarily to the boy in question, who’s staring slightly upwards with glazed over eyes. 

Daydreaming. 

That is, until Jisung hits him with a fry and Chenle sinks further down in his chair with what’s either embarrassment or heat-stroke written across his face. 

“Uh... Chenle? Are you okay?”

“Me? Yeah, I’m great. I’m wonderful.”

Jisung, oblivious, smiles widely. Chenle giggles.

_Jisung: Straight. That’s all we know. Unless he’s in love with Chenle and in denial._

_Chenle: Definitely into Jisung._

_Yangyang:_

Jeno may only have actually spoken to Yangyang once or twice, but there was a sort of vibe he gave off.

He’s hiding something in plain sight. 

Well, as of right now, he’s building a tower of plastic-y Chicken McNuggets. 

But he’s shady as hell, for sure.

_Yangyang: Definitely into someone who doesn’t like him back. Who it is remains a mystery._

_Renjun: Hates humanity._

Jeno doesn’t even have to think for this one, as Renjun’s currently staring at Chenle and Jisung with a clear look of disgust.

He notices Jeno looking at him and scoffs. “They’re so gross. How much are we willing to bet they’ll keep dancing around each other until they graduate?” 

Jeno grins. “I don’t have much money, but I’d say all of it.” 

“See?” Renjun raises his Styrofoam cup of Fanta in a toast. “I knew you had some common sense.” He glances between the two youngest again and makes a “tch” sound, sipping from his straw. 

_Renjun: Hates humanity. A lot._

_Jaemin:_

Jaemin’s currently trying to knock over Yangyang’s tower of chicken nuggets. He ordered nothing but two large Oreo McFlurry’s.

Jeno watches him with his eyebrows furrowed, in deep thought. 

He’s a mystery.

_Jaemin: Raging homosexual. Scary._

“What are you thinking about so loudly?” Jaemin turns to him, having given up his antics as Yangyang started screaming profanities in his direction. 

When Jeno doesn’t answer, Jaemin leans back in his chair. “You’re trying to figure us out, aren’t you?” 

“How can you tell?” 

“I know these things.” 

Jeno sighs. “You can’t keep using that as your reasoning for absolutely everything, you know. Someday, you’re going to have to explain where you’re getting all this shit.” 

The corner of Jaemin’s mouth turns upward. “That day is not today.” 

“Today! We! Fight!” Renjun calls from Jeno’s other side, and Jaemin leans over to smack him.

_Renjun: Hates humanity. A lot. Stans K-Pop boy groups._

“Well, Jeno. Do you think you know us now?” Jaemin asks. He raises an eyebrow and his voice takes on a teasing tone. “How easy were we to decode?” 

“I’m not going to pretend like I know anything about you guys.” Jeno replies. “You’re a mess.” 

Jaemin snorts, and even _that_ is attractive. “You got that right.” 

_Jeno: At least partially into Jaemin._

\-- ↻ --

“Renjun, open the sunroof.”

“Absolutely not. You’ll die.” 

Jeno looks at Jaemin from where he is sandwiched between him and Jisung. 

Yangyang was banished to the back, seeing as Renjun’s driving. Chenle is in the passenger seat, a decision that Renjun seems to regret. 

“Is Chenle trying to do the Perks Of Being A Wallflower thing?”

Jaemin nods. “He’s done it before-- wait, you’ve seen that movie?” 

“And read the book.” 

Jaemin whistles. 

“Why, is that so hard to believe?”

Keep in mind, 15 year old Jeno and the rom-coms. 

“You don’t seem the type who’d enjoy that kind of a thing.” 

Jeno takes personal offense to that. “What does that mean?” 

“Well, based on the way you act, I’d have guessed you wouldn’t subject yourself to such a human thing as watching an oddly scarring coming-of-age film.” Jaemin says quietly.

“I’m obviously more than how I act.” Jeno whispers back. “We all are.” He pauses. “I cried at that movie.” 

Jaemin simultaneously pouts and starts laughing. “I’m sorry, that’s so _pure_.”

“Not the point.” Jeno blushes. “What I’m trying to get at is that we’re all more than what we might seem.” 

That was not, in fact, what he was trying to get at. But it distracts Jaemin adequately. 

“In what way?” 

“Well..” Jeno looks around. Chenle and Yangyang are screaming at each other from opposite sides of the car, while Renjun and Jisung complain about it, equally loud. 

“Think of it this way. Yangyang’s more than just chaotic. Chenle’s more than just troublesome, and Jisung is more than his awkwardness. Renjun... Renjun’s more than his past, and his problems.” 

Jaemin tilts his head. “And me?” 

There’s a sort of sparkle in his eyes. Jeno pretends to think, but instead uses the time to just look at Jaemin, at the expression of unadulterated fascination, the glowing hair, the perpetual upwards curve of his lips. 

“You’re everything.” 

\-- ↻ --

Jeno does leave, at a somewhat reasonable hour. 

Though, as he tries to duck out peacefully, it grows clear that the boys have grown just attached to Jeno as he has to them.

It feels nice. It feels one step closer to belonging. 

Promises of meeting again to cause more trouble blur together, along with a handful of apologies for being so annoying. 

“You’re not annoying.” Jeno can only say in reply. “You’re all fucking great.” 

\-- ↻ --

**2:54 AM**

**♡** **~jaemin~** **♡**

jisung and chenle are making me feel alone as all hell

**Jeno Lee**

Why are you still awake?

**♡** **~jaemin~** **♡**

could ask the same of you >_<

**Jeno Lee**

Well now that we’ve established that neither of us have sleep schedules

What’s going on

**♡** **~jaemin~** **♡**

the children are being gay

which makes no sense bc jisung legit came out as straight

“came out as straight” im such a clown

**Jeno Lee**

Are you texting me at 3 am because you’re sad and single

Is that what’s happening

**♡** **~jaemin~** **♡**

don’t be mean to me :/

**Jeno Lee**

Sorry

**♡** **~jaemin~** **♡**

you’re not at all sorry

**Jeno Lee**

What makes you say that

**♡** **~jaemin~** **♡**

i just know these things

**Jeno Lee**

Lies

**♡** **~jaemin~** **♡**

you’re doubting me :(

**Jeno Lee**

No im not

**♡** **~jaemin~** **♡**

ho you just called me a liar

**Jeno Lee**

Doesn't mean shit

**♡** **~jaemin~** **♡**

oh ok

:)

**Jeno Lee**

Man please sleep

**♡** **~jaemin~** **♡**

and what if i say no 

**Jeno Lee**

It's your funeral

**♡** **~jaemin~** **♡**

damn thought you cared abt me a little bit more than that

**Jeno Lee**

Bitch what do you want me to do

Drug you

Come over there and personally tuck you in

**♡** **~jaemin~** **♡**

no but i wouldn't complain if you did 

**Jeno Lee**

Which one the drugging or the tucking you in

**♡** **~jaemin~** **♡**

either 

both 

**Jeno Lee**

I-

**_read_ **

\-- ↻ --

Jeno is happy. Disgustingly, completely, rom-com-esque happy. 

And he’s too busy enjoying himself to take a second and question why.

It’s yet another 90-something degree day. They keep coming, naturally, as it’s summer... But each one feels brighter than the last. 

The time that Jeno spends in his little shop watching people walk by is no longer boring. It passes with Jeno anticipating what stupid shit he’s going to get up to tonight, what kind of mistakes he’ll make. 

It’s honestly not that anything significant has changed. Just Jeno’s outlook. 

And then there’s Jaemin.

Jaemin, with all his wide grins and sideways glances and badly-timed remarks. 

Jeno has feelings. 

They’re very small feelings. Minuscule. Will probably pass in a few days as Jeno realizes how utterly ridiculous he is for thinking he even remotely has a chance. 

Still, it’s kind of nice. It’s a distraction, something to think about with a dumb look on his face until he snaps out of it with burning cheeks. 

Jeno is 90% sure that Jaemin knows of said feelings-- but it doesn’t really matter much to him. 

He’s past caring. 

After all, the end of summer will come sooner rather than later. 

There’s no time to care. 

\-- ↻ --

**3:14 PM**

**♡** **~jaemin~** **♡**

 _[sent 1 Spotify link: Like or Like Like by Miniature Tigers on Spotify. Listen now!]_

**Jeno Lee**

I have a feeling I shouldn’t search up the lyrics for this one either

 **_read_ **

Spoiler alert: Jeno does, in fact, search up the lyrics. And they send him into a gay panic like no other. 

Still, he plays the song from his little speaker and tries not to think too hard.

\-- ↻ --

“Man, your life story is really something.” Jeno quips as Jaemin finishes explaining the total of two (2) times he’s moved in his life.

“Not to most people.” 

Jaemin glances behind him, to the space between the underside of the boardwalk and the sand below it. There are a few patches of dry grass, a few wildflowers here and there. 

Jeno truly doesn’t know how they survived in a place like this. 

Jaemin’s face lights up. “Jeno, search up how to make a flower crown.” 

“You have the attention span of a goldfish.” 

They’re a little earlier than usual. The sun’s still setting, and the last tourists left on the beach are starting to pack up and head out.

The sky is filled with orange clouds streaked against a deep blue.

Like paint. 

“Goldfish actually have a longer attention span. The three seconds thing is a myth.” Jaemin gives Jeno a sort of lopsided smile.

“It was a metaphor.” 

“Sure.” 

Jeno chucks his phone at him with the tab already open. 

“I’m gonna be honest with you.” He starts as Jaemin threads the flowers’ stems together. “I’d have guessed you were the kind of person who would have already known how to make a flower crown.” 

Jaemin doesn’t look up. “Is this your way of calling me a flamboyant homosexual?”

“You call yourself a flamboyant homosexual.”

“You’re not wrong.”

A beat passes. 

“So, what’d you think of the song?” 

Jeno blinks. “Honestly, I don’t know. It was good.” He pauses. “Is this gonna be a thing now? Like, you making me listen to these random songs with somewhat scary lyrics?” 

“What’s scary about it?” Jaemin finally looks up, but it’s off into the distance like he’s seriously trying to remember the lyrics. “Oh, right. I’m not spying on you through your window, for the record. I don’t even know where you live.” 

“That’s really not the part I was worried about.” Jeno says quietly, but Jaemin hears, because of course he does. 

And he finally gets eye contact. But that’s also scary. 

“What, then?” There’s a somewhat mocking smile on Jaemin’s face. “Are you afraid that I like you?” 

“N-no. That’s not it.” 

“That’s understandable, actually. I go a little insane when I like someone.” The smile falters, and it’s clear that there’s a crack in the previously calm atmosphere. Jaemin directs his attention back down to the flowers. 

Jeno freaks out a little bit. “That--”

“It’s fine, Jeno.” What he doesn’t say is conveyed through his eyes, an apology for ruining whatever mood had been set before. 

Jeno doesn’t pay the look much attention.

Jaemin places the flower crown on Jeno’s head, pushing it down somewhat obnoxiously so that his hair falls into his eyes. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but the breeze whips Jaemin’s blue hair into his face and he settles on a quiet, “You’re too good for me anyways.”

Jeno hears it, but can’t say anything in response.

\-- ↻ --

“So, what are we doing tonight, o wise one?” 

Jeno reaches over to smack Jaemin across the head, a desperate attempt to bring them back to serenity, but Jaemin catches his hand and just holds it there for a second. 

It reminds Jeno of the first time they met on the beach, the tears and the secrets that now seem to have been shared so long ago. 

“Jaemin, can I ask you something?” Jeno asks slowly.

Jaemin matches his tone. “Is it about Renjun?”

Jeno doesn’t really need to say anything. He didn’t know what he was truly going to ask, but Jaemin’s reply indicates what’s on his mind, and who is Jeno to oppose him? All he can do is listen.

“Look, Jeno.” Jaemin softens slightly. “Call me selfish, but I don’t really want to talk about him tonight. It’s important, of course it is, and I’ll talk to him-- I will. Just..” 

“Okay. I’ll back off.” Jeno smiles softly. “It’s really not my place anyways.”

Jaemin cracks a smile. “You’re trying to help him. You have good intentions.”

“Intentions don’t mean shit if the execution is poor.” Jeno sighs, realizing a second too late that Jaemin could easily interpret his words wrong. 

Instead, Jaemin just looks back at him with his usual look of plain awe, one that Jeno has been starting to miss. “Facts.” 

\-- ↻ --

**10:09 PM**

**Unknown**

hElLO

jENOooOOOOoooOooOoo

**Jeno Lee**

Who is this

**Unknown**

Take A Wild Fucking Guess 

**Jeno Lee**

yangyang this is jaemin

how tf did you get this number ?

**Yangyang Liu**

Stole It Off Your Phone

**Jeno Lee**

Why do you type like that

**Yangyang Liu**

I Am The Ultimate

Anyways Jaemin Wasn’t Picking Up His Phone 

And I Think I Should Tell Him That 

Uh

We Lost Jisung 

**Jeno Lee**

You did what

**Yangyang Liu**

Bitch Disappeared

**Jeno Lee**

yangyang how the hell did that happen ???

he’s like 6 feet tall he can’t just disappear

**Yangyang Liu**

**🤣🤣🤣**

**Jeno Lee**

Why are you laughing the fuck

**Yangyang Liu**

I Laugh To Hide The Pain

Renjun Is Going To Beat My Ass

 **😂**

**Jeno Lee**

im sorry but where are you right now ?

**Yangyang Liu**

Costco

**Jeno Lee**

I didn’t even know there were Costco’s around here 

**Yangyang Liu**

That’s The Thing

There Aren’t

**Jeno Lee**

let me get this straight-

**Yangyang Liu**

Haha Straight 

It’s Funny Cuz You Aren’t 

**🤣**

**Jeno Lee**

man shut the fuck up 

i love you but sometimes you’re asking to be beat up

**Yangyang Liu**

Sorry Jaemin

**Jeno Lee**

no no ok give me a second

you 

are at a costco

approx. 70 miles away

at 10:16 pm

with jisung 

and probably chenle 

and now

you can’t find jisung

? 

**Yangyang Liu**

Yeah Exactly LOL 

How Did You Know 

**Jeno Lee**

forget renjun tf 

im gonna beat your ass

**Yangyang Liu**

HA HA 

Ha

Please Don’t

Marty Im Scared

Come Pick Me Up

**Jeno Lee**

screw it i’m coming over there

don’t move istg 

**Yangyang Liu**

THANK YOU

SORRY

**Jeno Lee**

leaving now

pls don’t spam jeno

\-- ↻ --

Jaemin does leave, after an unnecessarily thorough string of apologies. In fact, the kid only moves after Jeno insists that he won’t die in the meantime. 

“I’ll make it up to you!” Jaemin calls as he sprints back. 

“You don’t need to do shit.” Jeno replies, but Jaemin doesn’t hear him. 

And then Jeno gets another text. 

**10:27 pm**

**Yangyang Liu**

Damn You Have It Worse Than I Thought

**Jeno Lee**

Sorry what

**Yangyang Liu**

W H I P P E D

**Jeno Lee**

I’m not understanding you

**Yangyang Liu**

Your Understanding Fine Bro

**Jeno Lee**

You’re

Sorry

**Yangyang Liu**

Why Would I Be Sorry The Fuck

**Jeno Lee**

I meant- never mind

**Yangyang Liu**

Ok Ok I’ll Say This In Simpler Terms

You Are 

In Love 

With Jaemin

**Jeno Lee**

No???????

**Yangyang Liu**

Yes?????

I Can’t Believe Chenle And Jisung

Hoes Were Making A Plan And Everything

They Didn’t Need To Do Shit **😂😂**

Y’all Gay AF 

**Jeno Lee**

Man 

**Yangyang Liu**

LOL

**Jeno Lee**

Message not delivered!

**Yangyang Liu**

Uh 

**Jeno Lee**

Message not delivered!

**Yangyang Liu**

Jeno

**Jeno Lee**

Message not delivered!

**Yangyang Liu**

Jeno Lee

**Jeno Lee**

Message not delivered!

**Yangyang Liu**

Did You Block Me Jeno Lee

**Jeno Lee**

Message not delivered!

**Yangyang Liu**

**🤣🤣**

**Jeno Lee**

Message not delivered!

**Yangyang Liu**

I’m Gonna Die 

**Jeno Lee**

Message not delivered!

  
  


\-- ↻ --

Jeno has a lot to think about.

On the surface, nothing has changed between him of today and him of yesterday.

Sure, some wheels may have turned in his brain, and Jeno may have learned A Thing. But that shouldn’t mean anything, for Jeno learns Things almost every day, and his demeanor is almost never changed for it.

Jaemin himself is another story.

The realization of The Thing makes Jeno feel like he should be doing something, anything, even while the rational parts of his brain warn against it.

The Thing (quite obviously) went something like this--

_Observation 4 (cont.): Jeno: At least partially into Jaemin._

Which, yeah. Jeno isn’t wrong about himself.

Apart from whatever’s going on with Jaemin, it’s a seemingly simple situation.

The entire thing is innocent enough, but now Jeno has Yangyang blowing up his phone. 

And Jeno’s done before he can even start.

_Jesus Christ, am I that obvious?_

It seems like comically bad luck that the one time Jeno finds someone nice/attractive/all the intimidatingly wonderful things that Jaemin is, the guy’s best friends with the devil incarnate.

And now, to top it all off, Jeno’s stuck replying to Yangyang’s every message with the same copy-pasted reply. He’s honestly surprised that Yangyang believed he was blocked. 

Yangyang must not know how iPhones work. Jeno feels bad for a second, and then thinks, _mneh. Serves him right_. 

**2:29 AM**

**Yangyang Liu**

Wait A Damn Minute

**Jeno Lee**

Message not delivered!

**Yangyang Liu**

You Blocked Me

**Jeno Lee**

Message not delivered!

**Yangyang Liu**

Which Means 

**Jeno Lee**

Message not delivered!

**Yangyang Liu**

I Was Right 

**Jeno Lee**

Message not delivered!

**Yangyang Liu**

??? 

  
  


**Jeno Lee**

Message not delivered!

**Yangyang Liu**

OMG 

**Jeno Lee**

Message not delivered!

**Yangyang Liu**

Wait Til I Tell Chenle And Jisung 

**Jeno Lee**

Message not delivered!

_FUCK!_

Karma really is a bitch, huh. 

\-- ↻ --

Yangyang was, in fact, wrong. He still is. 

It’s not the l-word, of course not when Jeno’s only known Jaemin for, like, a few weeks. 

Man, Jeno’s perception of time is so fucked.

_Why does it feel like so much longer?_

_Not important._

Anyways, Yangyang needs to be fact-checked. By who, Jeno doesn’t know.

It’s a new day, with new potential and new opportunities for Jeno to screw up horribly. 

“Am I annoying you, Jeno?” Jaemin asks suddenly, dropping the magazine he’s reading so that it slides down the back of the display and lands directly at Jeno’s feet. 

He’s chosen to hang around yet again, and Jeno could question why, but he dedicates himself to enjoying Jaemin’s company instead. 

“What kind of a question is that?” Jeno glances up from the Spotify app open on his phone. 

He’s trying to find one specific song, but of course, shuffle play doesn’t want that. So the poor kid’s stuck shuffling through different playlists for an unknown period of time. 

Jaemin leans back a little, increasing the distance between himself and Jeno. “You’re right. Of course I am.” 

“No, that’s not--”

“I’d be annoyed too, if there was some guy clinging to me all the time.”

Jeno blinks. “You’re not... Clinging to me..” 

“You think so?” Jaemin leans back in and looks passively down to Jeno’s phone screen. “Huh. Then I must be doing something wrong.” 

“Uh.” Jeno decides it’s best to ignore that statement. “Why are you being like this all of a sudden?” 

Oof, those words didn’t come out right. 

“What do you mean? Weirdly sentimental? Insecure?”

Jeno nods slowly, and Jaemin laughs.

“Well, it’s natural. Such is the kind of shit that happens when I’m with people who are more attractive than me.”

Jeno rolls his eyes. “No one’s more attractive than you, Jaemin.” 

They both freeze. 

For the first time, Jaemin seems visibly panicked, and Jeno thinks he might have screwed up, but the blush on Jaemin’s face tells him otherwise.

_Damn, son._ You _did that._

It’s pretty. 

He’s so pretty. 

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“And why’s that?” Jeno asks. It’s very unnecessary. 

Jaemin sighs and refuses to meet Jeno’s eyes as the blush colors his cheeks an even deeper shade of red. “I’m beginning to think you’re not too good for my health, Jeno Lee.”

Despite the exchange, Jeno can see that Jaemin physically _skips_ away, just like he’d done the first time they met. 

\-- ↻ --

It’s yet another Tuesday when another strange thing happens.

Jeno’s on the beach, as usual. It’s dark without the light of the moon. 

There are footsteps, and he looks up. 

It’s not Jaemin, and for some reason, Jeno assumes that something terrible has happened. 

Renjun tries his best not to smile at the expression on Jeno’s face. “Can I talk to you?”

“You _are_ talking to me.” 

Renjun takes that as a yes, and sits down next to Jeno, close to the tide. The smile disappears. He doesn’t blink, doesn’t even _breathe_ before asking, “It was you, wasn’t it?” 

“What did I do?” Jeno asks dumbly. 

Renjun rolls his eyes. “You didn’t do anything.” He rolls the sleeves of his sweatshirt (gray, nondescript) up to his elbows and holds his arms out while Jeno stares blankly at him. “This doesn’t surprise you.” 

Jeno finally directs his eyes down to the other boy’s wrists, patterned with haphazard scars. “No.” He says after a second.

“Jaemin told you.” Renjun pushes his sleeves back down. “Honestly, he overreacts so much, can’t he just mind his own business--” 

Jeno doesn’t think that’s fair. “He worried so much about you.” He finds himself saying before his mind processes the words. “Cried for like two hours and then just kept worrying.” 

Renjun smiles, like he’d known this was exactly how Jeno would respond. Honestly, he looks like Jeno just passed a test. “Wow, I get it. He freaks out about me, you freak out about him. Who freaks out about you, then?”

Jeno doesn’t say anything, not quite sure how the question is relevant. 

Renjun doesn’t allow him a second to think, anyways. “Look, Jeno.” He’s back to stoic again. “I’m not gonna kill myself.”

Jeno blinks, unsure of what to say. “I’m glad to hear it, but please tell Jaemin that.” 

“I already have. I’m talking to you now, and you only.” 

“Why?” Jeno starts to ask, but Renjun shoots him a glare that shuts him up. 

“You worry too, don’t deny it. And you won’t stop until you know the whole story. That’s what Jaemin told me.” 

Jeno wonders when Jaemin learned so much about him. 

“So, here’s the whole story.” Renjun smiles like he’d known this was going to happen sooner or later, even though Jeno couldn’t have predicted anything remotely close to this a month ago. “When I started doing…” He gestures. “ _This_ , I wasn’t worried about having to hide cuts. I honest-to-god thought I was gonna die, and _wanted_ to-- though a single week of AP Bio would have taught me to do my carotid instead.” 

Renjun pauses, like the sudden expulsion of so much information is physically tiring. Jeno still doesn’t know what to say. 

“Why are you telling me this?” He asks slowly, not wanting to sound offensive. 

The other boy smiles, brushing white-purple-blue hair out of his eyes. “You’re a smart kid, Jeno. What do you notice?” 

Jeno doesn’t notice shit. “Extremely personal information that probably should not be told to a stranger.” 

Renjun swats. “Past tense, Jeno. It was all past tense.” 

And then it clicks. _Wanted_ to die.

“Are you… Are you okay, now?” 

Renjun looks proud of Jeno for figuring it out, a bit patronizing. 

Jeno doesn’t complain. 

“I will be. And Jaemin knows that.” He holds out his wrists again, but Jeno can’t bring himself to look at them again. Renjun laughs. “C’mon, Jeno.” 

Jeno glances down.

“They’re healing, see?”

He nods. “I’m glad you didn’t do your carotid.” 

“Me too.” Renjun sighs, before standing abruptly. “God, being nice is so tiring. See you around, Jeno.” 

“See... you.” Jeno says to the empty air around him. 

\-- ↻ --

_Observation #6: Renjun doesn’t hate_ everyone _. Most people, sure. But not everyone._

Jeno files that thought away, right next to _Observation #5: Something is up with Jaemin. Other than the usual things, of course. He’s okay most of the time, but then he just says odd stuff. It’s worrying, and, generally, worrying is never a good sign._

Jeno thinks back to the look on Renjun’s face when he mentioned Jaemin. 

It appears he isn’t the only one who knows more than they let on.

Days feel less and less like scenes from a coming-of-age movie, and more normal. Not because they’ve changed, but because Jeno is growing used to them.

Jaemin no longer looks at Renjun with expressions of worry. Renjun no longer seems uncomfortable. Yangyang and Chenle and Jisung remain separate, hatching plans and being young.

It’s nice. It feels like a conflict has resolved, and life can just go on with little to no consequence. 

Maybe this is what summer is supposed to feel like, with days that go by feeling like days instead of seconds.

Everything and nothing is worth remembering. 

\-- ↻ --

Nights are, just like Jeno’d predicted, the only part of each monotonous day that truly stick in his memory whether he likes it or not. 

“You think so loudly.” Jaemin comments, leaning over to mess up Jeno’s hair. 

_He’s gotten more touchy. Maybe he’s always been like that and I’m just now noticing because I’m--_

_Moving on._

“That’s the second time you’ve said that.” Jeno replies passively. 

“You were counting?” 

“No, I approximated.” 

“But you were exactly right.”

“Lucky guess?” 

Jaemin snorts, and Jeno takes the break in the conversation as an opportunity to bring both of them back to where they’d started. “How does one even think loudly? Can you hear my thoughts?” 

It would be fucking terrible if Jaemin could hear his thoughts, but Jeno was sure he’d get a kick out of some of them. 

“No.” Jaemin replied shortly. “I just know these things.”

Jeno glares, but Jaemin can tell he doesn’t mean anything by it. Hopefully. 

“I’m sorry.” Jaemin says suddenly. “I’m really obnoxious, huh?”

_Self-critical? Since when?_

_Not good. Not good._

“Of course not! Don’t be like that, come on.” Jeno tries, and watches Jaemin deflate slightly but simultaneously put on a bright smile. 

“Right, sorry for ruining the mood.” He claps, signifying a change in subject. 

_What’s wrong with you?_

“It’s your turn, isn’t it?”

Jeno looks up. “For what?”

“You know, the whole deciding something stupid for us to do thing.” 

In all honesty, Jeno had quite forgotten about that. What they did when together had little to no consequence to Jeno-- rather, it was the simple feeling of being in Jaemin’s presence. 

Furthermore, Jeno felt it somewhat selfish to subject Jaemin to something, not when he was so obviously messed up. 

But Jaemin wanted him to say something, so he did. 

“I kind of forgot about that.” Jeno says unintelligently.

_Maybe nothing’s wrong with Jaemin. Maybe he’s always like this, and you were too dumb to notice._

Jaemin laughs, but it’s short. “Honestly, me too. I kind of understand what you mean, now. There’s only so much you can do around here.”

Jeno would like to think he knows Jaemin. 

To some extent, at least. He knows his name, his age, his friends, the kind of person he is. 

But what doesn’t Jeno know? And why does every passing second make Jeno feel more and more eager to find out?

Jeno nods slowly, and then blurts an even dumber, “Who are you, Jaemin Na?” 

Jaemin looks (predictably) caught off guard for a few seconds before breaking into a confused smile. “You know who I am.”

Jeno tilts his head, and the crashing of the waves reminds him of that one song that he’d found by accident so long ago. The suggested track where he couldn’t understand a single word, but still enjoyed the music itself, the way it made him feel. 

“Do I?” Jeno asks, his tone neutral-- maybe even slightly teasing, taking on the qualities of Jaemin’s voice just to show the other boy that he is in no way angry or upset. 

Just curious. 

“I think you might even know me better than I know myself.” Jaemin admits quietly, and despite the lilt in his voice, Jeno knows he’s telling the truth. 

“Is that so?” He replies, and a smile creeps onto Jeno’s face at the thoughts in his mind.

This is ridiculous. They’re ridiculous. They’ve reached the point at which they begin to disguise deep statements and admissions as jokes, for fear of their feelings being rejected.

Each knows the other is truly serious. It’s like a game, an elaborate way of dancing around one another— one that Jeno can’t help but find at least a little amusing. 

How the hell did they end up here?

“Why’s that?” Jeno asks, knowing the answer he’ll get. 

All of his previous worries disappear for a second, and Jeno can tell that the Jaemin he’s seeing is real. There could be so much wrong with him, so much on his mind, so many dark thoughts-- but it appears that the both of them are willing to forget for just a minute. 

Then who cares? There’s no time to worry.

Jaemin smiles cheekily. 

_This is what I know. Who I know. He’s not perfect, but he’s here._

Jeno can see the words forming on the tip of Jaemin’s tongue, feel the soft laugh that’s more air than sound. “I just know th--”

And, for some reason, Jeno doesn’t even take a second to think.

Once Jeno has leaned forward and pressed his lips to Jaemin’s (with far more force than necessary), he wonders for a second if he’s made a terrible mistake.

But then Jaemin’s kissing him back, hands in his hair, and Jeno can’t really be bothered to think about anything. 

\-- ↻ --

When they inevitably break apart, Jaemin regards the look on Jeno’s face with a badly hidden smile. “Are you going to run away from me, Jeno Lee?” 

Jeno does not bother to wipe the shocked expression off of his own face, but replies, “Nope.” 

A second passes with them staring a little awkwardly at each other. 

Renjun is probably off smiling like an idiot somewhere.

Not that Jeno really wants to think about Renjun right now.

“Jaemin?”

“Mhm?” 

“What do I say?” 

Jaemin tilts his head and Jeno’s eyes go down to his lips for a second time. 

_Oh, GOD._

“What do you mean?” 

“Forget it.”

Jaemin shrugs, and Jeno’s gaze doesn’t waver.

“Talking is overrated.” 

\-- ↻ --

Only when Jaemin’s lips are bitten red and shining does Jeno actually start _thinking_ again.

The only problem is that the thoughts themselves make no sense, even to Jeno.

_One month?_

_What did you do--_

_Oh, no, no, no._

_Kiss him again._

_What?_

_No!_

_He--_

_You’re literally dying._

_Battery low._

_People don’t work like that, though._

Jaemin runs his thumb across his bottom lip absentmindedly. “You haven’t done this before, have you?” He grins. 

_Haha, what?_

“Am I that bad?” Jeno finds himself asking, only to mentally kick himself a second later when Jaemin simultaneously starts laughing and goes bright red. 

“Nope.” He answers shortly, leaving way too much unsaid. “I can hear you panicking.” 

“You can’t hear my thoughts, Jaemin, for the love of god.” 

“And yet, I was right. You are panicking.” 

Jeno looks distastefully down at the accusing finger that Jaemin has pointed at him, but does not confirm nor deny Jaemin’s assumption. 

“That’s a yes.” 

“That is not a yes or a no.” 

There’s a short pause, and then Jaemin drops his hand back down to the sand. For some reason, Jeno’s gaze follows it. 

“So, a yes.” Jaemin’s tone remains nonchalant, somehow. “If it helps, I’ve been waiting for you to do that since that first day on the boardwalk.” 

There was no reason for—

The _audacity—_

Jeno looks up, bewildered.“And you didn’t say anything?” 

Because, out of all the possible replies, that’s what he chose to say. 

“Man, what the fuck was I supposed to say? ‘Hello, nice to meet you— I haven’t given it too much thought but would you like to kindly rearrange my guts?’” 

Jeno should have seen that coming, but he did not. 

He can’t say anything for a while, and Jaemin looks satisfied. 

And when Jeno _can_ say something, it’s “Well, that gave me a whole set of unnecessary mental images.” Which, despite its blatant stupidity, gets a snort-choke-laugh combination out of Jaemin. 

“Oh lord, I think you just transferred some of them to me.” 

“Shut up.” Jeno blurts, doing his best not to redden obviously. 

“You shut up.” 

“I’m not talking.”

“Now you are.” 

“Real mature.” 

“You started it!” 

“Did not!” 

“Did too!” 

“Did not!” 

Jaemin inhales sharply. “Did fucking too!” 

“Fine, you win.”

“Really?”

Jeno tilts his head and smiles, unable to do much else. “Yes, you win.”

\-- ↻ --

Time doesn’t speed up or slow down anymore. It passes by so fluidly that Jeno doesn’t bother giving it a second thought. 

Other things change. Nights with Jaemin on the beach start with a kiss as opposed to awkward banter. There’s still a lot of that later on, though. 

Sometimes, Jeno stops and thinks the way he was so used to doing. Not about the past, the summer that changed so drastically with just a cup of lemon sorbet-- but about the future, the last month that they’ll all spend together. 

Maybe Jaemin will enlist Yangyang’s help in setting Chenle and Jisung up. 

Maybe Renjun will join in on the fun. 

Maybe a certain Mark Lee will meet Jeno through an opportune wrong number call, and they’ll bond over their mutual discomfort with a certain Lee Donghyuck. 

Maybe they’ll all go to the carnival at the end of summer, running around like children and just generally causing chaos on the last night they’ll spend together.

But that’s all very far away.

For right now, two boys sit in a parked car, smiling, talking, illuminated by the sparse moonlight.

It’s quiet. 

Peaceful. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading and keep on living guys.
> 
> yell at me on [instagram](https://instagram.com/dear.__.dream?igshid=16hz0xg0t0p70) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/rmstzngn)!
> 
> also feel free to point out typos and leave concrit in comments!!


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